Ordinary Miracles A Phantom of the Paradise story
by Sybl Angelkat
Summary: A Phantom of the Paradise story. After his suicide attempt on the roof, Winslow encounters a childlike woman singing his song. There is much more to her than first appears and he isn't the only one who notices. Maybe there really are such things as guardian angels...Winslow/Phoenix and Winslow/OC Friendship only .
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Shortly after Winslow attempts suicide on the roof, he meets Melody, a childlike woman with obstacles of her own. There is more to her than meets the eye, however, and Winslow isn't the only one who notices…other character friendship only. Might be Winslow/Phoenix later on.

Winslow's eyes closed as he lay on the roof. The cold rain and the thunder no longer mattered. Nothing mattered anymore. He hoped death might change its mind and come claim him. There was nothing powerful enough to scrub the image from his mind of his beloved Phoenix in Swan's slimy grasp. The Phantom of the Paradise had unfortunately become Swan's pawn.

"…And as I lived my role, I swore I'd sell my soul for one love…"

He sat up, ignoring the screaming pain in his chest. Not another one…

"…who would stand by me, one love who would give me back the gift of laughter…"

He climbed down the side of the building. His progress was slower than usual because of his blood loss and pain, but he still managed to get down there pretty fast as far as human standards are concerned. He finally found the singer sitting on the sidewalk. She had on a white tank top and jeans. The weather was far too cold to go without a jacket and she held her arms clamped close to her body in a pathetic attempt to keep warm. Her shoulder-length dark hair was plastered in soggy curls to her forehead and the back of her neck. Her huge dark eyes seemed too big for her fair face. She stopped singing when she saw Winslow standing over her.

"Don't sing that song," he demanded.

She tilted her head in the same way a puppy does when its master is talking to it.

"Why?"

"It's _my_ song. It's only meant for Phoenix. Anyone else who sings it _dies._"

She seemed even more puzzled.

"What's a Phoenix?" she asked, "Isn't that one of those birds made of fire? The ones that turn back into babies when they die?"

"She's _named after it,_" he said impatiently, "she's a woman who works at the Paradise."

"Oh…but I sang your song and I didn't die," the woman chirped optimistically.

That took the fight out of Winslow. He couldn't justifiably kill someone who had the mind of a child.

"What are you doing out here, anyway?"

"Well, I saw this great big house over here and I thought I'd ask if I could just go in and get warm. There's only one guy who lives there and lots of people who take care of it, so he can't be using all those rooms at one time. It's so cold out here…"

Winslow cringed. The last thing he wanted to happen to her was for Swan to trick her into signing one of his contracts. She wasn't nearly as beautiful as Phoenix, but she was still pretty enough that Swan might take a passing interest.

"He isn't there. Come with me."

She followed him.

"Somebody told me a story about you," she said, "they showed me your picture in the paper. What I didn't understand was you seemed like a really good man—why didn't I see you at home?"

He turned to look at her.

"What are you talking about?"

"Up there, silly!" she pointed at the sky, "I didn't see you up there! I was waiting for you!"

Now he was sure her mind was gone or at least damaged.

"My father says that all good people who believe in him go up there to be with us, part of our family. He had your name on the list—Win-slow. Winslow. Yeah."

Winslow stopped in his tracks. At first, he had the odd creeping feeling that maybe there was more to this than he thought. Then, his logical side dismissed it.

"Of course you know my name," he muttered, "you saw it in the paper."

"No, honest! I didn't! Not until after I came down here! I know lots of things about you that you never told anyone! Ask me a question."

They were about to re-enter the paradise. Winslow had stolen one of the keys at the very beginning. He let her in first.

"You wrote your first song when you were ten years old," she blurted out, "on a restaurant napkin. Your mommy griped at you and told you to stop singing at the table cause the other customers were giving her dirty looks."

That got his attention.

"You started taking piano lessons when you were seven years old and you were the only kid that the teacher complained about wanting to meet with her all the time. You used to draw music notes at the top of your school notes when you were bored."

He stared at her. She seemed even younger than him.

"Your last thought before you almost drowned was that you'd never see Phoenix again…"

Her voice was quieter now. She was backing away from him as if afraid she'd upset him.

"I've been with you since you drew your first breath, Winslow. But something bad happened to me. I'm not supposed to be where you can see me. Something's wrong, but I can't remember what it is…I was supposed to watch over you and help you."

His fury began to build again.

"Then where were you when THIS happened?"

He raised his mask. She gulped and flattened herself against the wall, trembling.

"I-I don't remember…I think I was still asleep…"

He lowered the mask again.

"I was on my way, honest…" she was starting to cry now, "…but this monster…this awful, terrible monster…he did something terrible to me. He made me human…I lost all my powers…I don't know anything about being human…and I can't go home!"

She dropped to her knees, her face buried in her hands. Winslow hauled her back to her feet and dragged her down the hallway.

"If you don't believe me, feel my back where my wings used to be…" she choked out. He slid one ungloved hand under her shirt and ran it over her back. Sure enough, two hard ridges jutted out from under her skin. There seemed to be bones where there shouldn't be.

"That's all that's left of them," she whimpered.

They came to the stolen dressing room that served as Winslow's living area. There was a pile of blankets and pillows in one corner that passed as a bed. A hot plate on a dresser, a couple of sauce pans, and a few canned items served as a makeshift kitchen. The only thing there in its entirety was an adjoining bathroom with a functional shower. The girl had gone quiet, the occasional tear trickling down her face.

"Stay here," he told her, "I'll be right back."

She nodded. At least he didn't seem angry anymore. She went to the bathroom and blew her nose noisily.

"I _hate_ this part of being human! Everything makes me cry!" she told her reflection, "And I'm sick of gooey stuff coming out of my face!"

For good measure, she washed her face. By the time Winslow returned, she was a lot calmer.

"Put these on," he gave her some dry clothes pilfered from the costume department. She took them and closed the door behind her. The last time she'd changed clothes, everybody freaked out. She thought it was weird that humans made such a big deal over people being naked in public. She stripped away the wet clothes and lay them out to dry. Then, she changed into the pretty blue dress that someone had left behind. There was also an expensive-looking coat. She drug the comb through her snarled hair until it was smoothed out.

"Thank you, Winslow," she said, coming out of the bathroom. She'd noticed that he'd been holding his chest almost nonstop since she'd run into him.

"I smell blood," she announced, "did you get hurt?"

She tugged his hands away.

"Just let me see!"

He protested, but not for long. The wound was still trickling. His heart was gurgling, struggling to find its regular rhythm. He felt exhausted.

"Ooh…this thing…the heart…it's important. I wish you'd told me earlier," she told him, laying her hand over the wound.

"What are you doing?" he asked, trying to pull away.

"Hold still, for cloud's sake! I can't fix it if you keep squirming!"

She sang a note, low and steady. As her voice gradually grew louder, her hand seemed to grow hotter. He looked down and saw a white light under her fingers. His heartbeat regulated and there was an odd squelching noise as his flesh knitted together. Suddenly, there was no pain. There was no blood. He felt his ebbing strength returning.

"All better," she told him, "for now. I don't understand why, but it won't stay healed…it's like something's changed you. You'll have to be careful and tell me if it starts bothering you again."

"Can you fix my voice?" he asked her. She placed her hands on his throat. After several minutes, nothing seemed to happen.

"Oh, crud! I'm sorry, Winslow…it's an old injury…too old…if I wasn't stuck in this body, I could probably do it, but I can only fix stuff that's happened a little while ago. Let me try your face."

He took the mask completely off. She frowned, but didn't react dramatically.

"Hmm…"

She seemed more to be frowning in concentration than from disgust or shock. Finally, one hand landed directly over his eye.

"I can't promise anything," she told him.

The note rang out through the room. He could actually feel the energy concentrating under her hands. He felt it pulse through his body, willing it to regenerate what it had lost. He felt something move under her hand.

"Open your eyes, now," she said.

Where his right eye had been completely blinded, there was now almost normal vision.

"I can see again!" he announced.

"I took away the scar tissue," she told him, "that was all I could fix, though."

He hugged her.

"You're welcome," she smiled.

Since he wasn't able to doubt her so much now, he put his mask back on and got to work heating some food up for both of them. She was embarrassed by her gurgling stomach and kept mashing it in to stifle the noise.

"Who was this monster that attacked you?" he asked.

"I don't know," she admitted, "I've seen him before. He was there before…he used to be one of us. When Lucifer got so full of himself and we had to fight him and his followers, he got thrown out right alongside Lucifer. He wasn't the kind of guy that would just walk up and stab you. He was sneaky. He tricked a lot of my brothers and sisters into doing things that got them in trouble. One of my brothers got sent away because he was kissing a human lady. That monster told him to do it, that it wouldn't hurt him. He was lying."

She played with a strand of hair as she talked.

"Anyway, the monster came up to me when I was trying to find you and said he could help me. He said you were dying and I'd miss you if I didn't hurry up. I told him that you'd be able to come home without me, that my father would show you the way up. But he tricked me. He got me scared that one of his friends would find you and eat you if I didn't get there first. Then he said he'd make it easier for me since I cared so much. I passed out. When I woke up, I had skin and a heartbeat and no wings. It was awful."

She shuddered.

"I walked and walked and yelled and yelled and people were saying really rude things to me and not helping at all. I walked until my feet were sore and bleeding, but I still couldn't find you. Then I heard somebody singing your song and I came up here to see if it was you. It didn't sound like you, though. It was a different voice. I asked one of the men at the entrance if I could see you and he said you were already dead. Then he laughed in my face. Another one said if I didn't go away, the Phantom would get me."

Her expression changed comically.

"Wait a minute! You're the Phantom!"

Winslow chuckled.

"Guilty."

She cracked up laughing.

"So if I'd have stayed, I would have found you anyway! Gosh, I wish I hadn't been so scared!"

After weeks of nothing but bad and worse news, it felt so good to laugh. There was something so comforting to her childlike qualities.

"Well…now that I'm a human," she said, accepting the bowl of soup from him, "I guess I better pick a name. I had some guys calling me 'Stupid' earlier, but I found out it's not a very nice name."

Winslow's sides were aching at this point. When he finally recomposed himself with a drink of water, he said, "Most of the things you know about me are from when I was either playing music or writing songs. You should be called 'Melody'."

"Melody," she breathed, "I like it!"

"Well, here's to you, Melody!"

They clicked their bowls together.


	2. Chapter 2

Melody woke the next morning by herself. Winslow had woken her up earlier and said he was going to go somewhere, but she couldn't remember where. She looked over at the kitchen area, puzzled. There weren't any cans there, not that she'd know how to open them. Her stomach rumbled.

"Hungry again? Didn't I just eat a while ago?" she asked disgustedly. Being human was such a pain. It seemed like she was always hungry, always cold, or always had to use the bathroom. How much yucky stuff could there be inside of her, anyway?

She brushed her hair out again. Maybe she'd explore her new home some more. After she'd inspected the two rooms thoroughly, she was bored. It had been dark yesterday—maybe she could look out here for something to eat. She wandered down the hallways, examining pictures and various things. She noticed there was a light in one of the rooms and went inside. There was a desk with a picture on it. She picked it up and examined it.

"Can I help you?"

Melody was startled and nearly dropped the frame. She quickly put it down and turned to face the man that matched the voice.

He was a shorter man than Winslow, probably less than two inches taller than she was. His blonde hair curved around his face, giving him the illusion of youth. He wore dark glasses that cast a shadow on his eyes and a brightly colored suit. She studied him for a few minutes.

"I know her," Melody finally said, pointing to the picture, "she's my friend's friend. Or something like that."

Swan crossed the room.

"Oh, yes. My darling Phoenix is very popular around here. Of course, my job is to look for new talent to add to the shows we already have."

Melody noticed the cigarette in his hand.

"You shouldn't be doing that," she scolded, "my father says those are bad for you."

Swan chuckled.

"Only in certain cases. Just out of curiosity, how did you get in here?"

"I walked."

"No, I mean how did you get past security?"

"Security?" she seemed genuinely confused. At this point, Swan was assuming one of his singers had brought her in for a one-night-stand and she was still buzzing from whatever she'd been drugged with last night.

"Yes, darling, all those men standing around out front."

"I haven't seen anyone besides you and Winslow."

_Winslow…aha! That explains it!_

"Winslow let you in, eh? Where is he now?"

"I don't know."

"How do you know Winslow?" Swan asked.

Melody thought that over. She was getting an odd feeling about Swan.

"Well…I was outside in the rain last night and it was really, really cold. He heard me singing and came to tell me to quit it. Then I told him I was lost and he gave me a place to stay and dry clothes and food. He thought it was funny that I was lost because he was the one I was trying to find in the first place. He was hurt and I healed him."

"I see…"

Swan really didn't. Being the sleazy man he was, he didn't think anyone could simply just be friends with the opposite gender.

"And how well do you sing, Miss…"

"My name is Melody," she said.

"…Melody," he repeated.

"Well, I don't know. Everybody at home loved my music. Here, not so much. Not very many people have heard me. Winslow was mad at me last night for singing his song, but I think he's forgiven me."

"Sing for me, then."

She noticed a small cut on Swan's neck.

"Oh, no…not you, too. Can't you people go one day without being hurt?"

Before he could object, she pressed her hand against the cut and sang the note. The cut vanished.

"What did you just do to me?" he demanded.

"I fixed you. You had a scratch right there," she said, probing the now smooth skin. He retrieved a mirror and looked. Sure enough, it was gone.

"That's impressive," he admitted, "how did you do that?"

"I…just…did. I've been able to do that since I was born."

"Well, if you don't mind, I would like to hear more than just one note. Do you play any instruments?"

She thought that one over.

"I can play a bunch of them," she admitted, "I've been learning for…a long time."

She noticed a guitar in the corner and picked it up.

"I hope Winslow doesn't get crabby again over this," she sighed, "it's the only one I can remember."

She played and sang _Faust._ Swan was duly impressed—her voice had different qualities than Phoenix's. He couldn't for sure say that one was better than the other. Phoenix's dark alto voice was like flowing satin, while Melody's was higher and had more of an innocence and sweetness to it. Perhaps, with these different ranges, they could even work together.

"Very nice," he said, clapping his hands together, "I want to record you if you don't mind."

"All right," she said reluctantly, laying the guitar aside. She was starting to feel very clammy and light-headed.

"Are you all right, Melody?"

"No. I feel kind of yucky…but I think it's cause I'm hungry. I think Winslow left to get more food."

"Why don't you come with me to lunch? We can discuss your music career some more."

She looked at him, puzzled.

"But I don't have a music career."

He smirked.

"Not yet, you don't!"

He guided her out the door.

…..

Winslow returned as quickly as he could. He'd encountered a few complications. First, he'd had some trouble convincing the guy at the convenience store that he was _not_ there to rob the place. Eventually, he'd just thrown the money on the counter and bolted without waiting for the change. Then, he'd had to avoid the police cars that were headed to the store. His route had successfully evaded them, but it had taken him several twists and turns out of the way. By the time he managed to sneak back into the paradise, he'd been gone for almost two hours. Melody was conspicuously absent. He walked along the halls, looking for her.

"Oh, no…" he groaned when he saw her getting into Swan's car. There was no telling what would happen. For the first time in years, Winslow bowed his head and prayed to God that He would keep Melody out of trouble. It was bad enough that Phoenix was already in his clutches, but Melody…he didn't want to think about it.

…

Swan looked over the rim of his glass at Melody with amusement. The girl was eating like she'd never see food again. He shook his head in amusement.

"What's funny?" she asked around a mouthful of ravioli.

"You are."

She wiped a streak of tomato sauce off of her face.

"Why?" she asked.

"I can't tell you how many girls I've brought here that take two bites of salad and claim they're full."

She stared.

"Really? That's weird. I feel hungry a lot. All the time. I'd never get full if I did that."

She bit into a heavily buttered roll.

"All I could think about is food, especially if it always tastes like this!"

The waiter came by and glanced at the stack of dishes on Melody's side of the table.

"Would you care for some coffee with your tiramisu, Miss?"

"Okay!"

He balanced the pile of dishes as carefully as he could and hauled them to the kitchen. Unfortunately, there was a loud crash about halfway back. Melody turned around to see the poor guy getting up from the floor.

"Oh, no! Are you all right, Brian? Here, let me help you with this!"

Swan placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Let him get it, Darling. That's what he's being paid for."

She peeled his hand off.

"Maybe," she agreed, "but everybody needs help once in a while. Oh, be careful! That plate's broken!"

The red-faced waiter reluctantly accepted her help gathering them up. Once she'd helped him carry the dishes back into the kitchen, she washed her hands and returned to the table.

"You're not like any woman I've ever met," Swan observed. Melody took a sip of her coffee before promptly dumping half the sugar-shaker's contents into it.

"Really? I get that a lot," she said, stirring it so vigorously that some of the dark brown liquid sloshed over the side of the cup. Content that it was now coffee-flavored syrup, she drank the whole cup without stopping.

"How does anybody drink it without sugar? I thought my tongue was going to fall off!" she joked.

Swan couldn't remember when he'd laughed this much. Most women he went out with were either trying to hit on him (which he enjoyed) or trying to sell themselves or their talent (which he also enjoyed). Melody seemed as if she were seeing everything and experiencing everything for the first time. She was so childlike that he hadn't even tried to look down her dress.

_I wonder if Melody has a significant other…imagine the grocery bills!_ He thought.

"So…now that you've eaten, will you come to the studio with me?" he asked. Melody's pale cheeks were flushed and she was bouncing around in the seat like a hyper kid.

"Well, sure! I told you I knew lots of instruments, didn't I? Does this mean I get to learn new songs? Do I get to play with all the stuff? Do I get to make some new friends? Can I get some more coffee? Do I get to dance, too? Can I, can I? Do I get to try on pretty costumes? Do I get to have the light shined on me?"

Even the limo driver was in hysterics.

"What does this button do?"

Melody hit the button for the sun roof.

"Wow! I can see the sky!"

Before Swan could stop her, she stood up and looked out from it.

"Wheeeeeee! This is so cool! I can see EVERYTHING!"

She waved to all the people on the sidewalks and the people in the cars. She looked in wonder at all the skyscrapers and glittering buildings. When she finally sat back down, her hair was a windblown, frizzy mess and she raked it impatiently out of her face.

"There's so much stuff to look at down here! How come all the cars don't have these holes?"

Swan didn't know how to answer that one. Instead, he replied, "You should see it at night."

Of course, this sent her into another frenzy altogether.

"Oh, I want to! Will you take me? What about Winslow? Can he come? Pleeeease?"

"We'll see," Swan said patiently, "now, sit down, please. Just watching you is tiring me out."

"All right…"

She clicked her seatbelt back into place and sat with her hands folded in her lap for the rest of the trip. She was so preoccupied with watching the scenery go by outside that she didn't register when the limo had stopped. Swan had to tap her on the shoulder.

Winslow saw them re-enter the Paradise. She seemed to be arguing with Swan about something, but he wasn't close enough to hear what was being said. He would have to figure out where she was being taken.

"I really should find Winslow," Melody was saying, "he'll be worried if he comes back and finds me gone."

"He'll be all right," Swan said dismissively, "he'll know you're with me."

"He's worried, I can feel it!"

"Nonsense. He'll figure it out soon enough."

"You'll tell him where I'm at?"

"Yes, I'll tell him."

"…all right…"

They went into the recording studio. Melody was examining everything when she saw the record press in the back. Her face went white as she stared into it. Swan noticed her odd reaction.

"What's the matter?"

"That thing over there…what is it?"

"It's a record press. It makes records. Watch."

He turned the machine on and she backed away from it. A record appeared, newly formed, and he handed it to her. She stared at the black shining disc in her hands for several minutes.

"Records…aren't alive, are they?"

He stared at her, puzzled.

"Of course they aren't alive!"

"This doesn't hurt them?"

"Hurt them? What are you talking about, Melody?"

She walked over to the switch and turned it off. Then, carefully, she ran her fingers along the inside edge.

"I smelled blood."

He stared at the rusty streak on her finger. It was dried blood from a very long time ago. She held it under her nose and inhaled. Her face took on a grayish tinge and she gulped audibly.

"This is Winslow's blood," she said shakily, "…this machine hurt Winslow."

_So…that's why he's a walking nightmare,_ Swan thought, _serves him right for trying to trash the place._

"I see…" he said quietly.

"Did you know?"

"Not before now."

She stared at the record press in horror.

"Mr. Swan, I'll sing for you, but only if you lock this atrocious thing up where it can't hurt anyone ever again."

"It was locked up. Winslow must have gotten hurt when he broke in here a few weeks back. Sounds like he learned the hard way."

She looked at him funny.

"Aren't you the least bit sad that he got hurt? He can't even talk without that black box."

"I gave him the box," Swan told her, "I allow him to stay here, which is more than generous enough considering he broke some of my things, messed up my studio, and killed people!"

She stared at him, open-mouthed.

"There must be some mistake," she objected, "Winslow wouldn't do that!"

"Then ask him later when you see him."


	3. Chapter 3

After quickly learning "Old Souls" and a few different takes, Melody had performed and recorded the song for Swan. After finding out about Winslow and the press, she was anxious to get back to him and ask him what had really happened that night. Swan got tired of her antsy state and let her go only if she promised to come back later. Melody sprinted through the halls until she smacked face-first into Winslow. They both toppled over in opposite directions.

"Sorry!" she helped him up.

"Where have you been all day?" he demanded.

"With Mr. Swan. We went to eat Italian food and then he showed me his studio with the scary record press and then we recorded music-"

Winslow dragged her back into his living area and closed the door.

"Stay away from Swan," he warned her, "please. For my sake. He's already got Phoenix, I don't want him to get you, too."

"What happened? I found your blood on that awful machine," Melody whimpered, "he said that you weren't supposed to go in there and that was why you got hurt."

"Yes, that happened. What he didn't tell you is that I was trying to get my music back that he stole from me."

Melody frowned.

"If it's yours, he should give it back!" she announced passionately.

"Yes, but he won't. I tried to take it back myself several times but he won't just give it back. He had me beaten up, arrested, sent to jail, shot, and drowned. I think it's safe to say he's not going to do the right thing."

Melody's jaw had dropped in horror.

"No! He seemed so nice to me! How could somebody that nice be so mean?"

"He wants something from you, Melody. He'll only be nice until you stop giving it to him."

"And if I don't?" she asked.

"I don't know. But if what happened to me is any example, you'd be better off not trusting him."

Her eyes glittered with tears.

"Poor Winslow," she choked out, "I'm so sorry…I wish I could have gotten here sooner."

He pulled her into a hug.

"It's all right, Melody. You're here now. So tell me what happened today."

She did. He listened patiently and didn't interrupt her as she went into heavy detail. Some things he couldn't help but laugh at.

"And I told him I'd sing for him if he locked that nasty record press up," she said, "I hope he does. It was awful. I could still smell your blood. As I stood there and looked at it, I saw what happened to you. I saw it hurt your face and your throat. I almost got sick."

"So did I," he admitted, "it was worse when I first looked in the mirror."

She went quiet for a moment.

"Winslow? I think he was lying to me."

"That's nothing new," Winslow muttered, "he's lied to everybody at some point."

"Yeah, but this was a big one. He said you've killed people."

Winslow went quiet.

"Yes," he admitted, "that's true."

She clasped her hands over her mouth and stared at him with wide eyes.

"Why? Don't you know that's a sin? Why would you do that?"

"Because I had to."

"No, you didn't! Winslow, there's always another way!"

"Not this time. Beef didn't listen to my warning that my song was for Phoenix. Neither did Swan's band that he keeps changing the name of. Most of them haven't. It was only after I killed Beef that they finally listened."

Melody shuddered.

"You can't do that, Winslow! If you try to solve all your problems that way, you won't have anyone left to help you! I can't imagine what Father must think!"

Winslow was growing angry again, she could see it.

"You don't know what it's like!" he snapped.

"No," she admitted, "you're right. I don't. But I'm learning. Being a human is so much harder than I ever imagined."

Swan paced back and forth in his bedroom. Tonight, he had not taken a partner. Phoenix hadn't been feeling well today, so he was by himself. He didn't want to have to entertain some girl when there was so much on his mind. That girl, that Melody, seemed so familiar and yet he couldn't place her. Her appearance was relatively plain—she had more plump on her than was necessary and her dark tangled curls were always sticking up. It was her voice and her personality that intrigued him. She was like a child, so easily pleased and so easily amused. She didn't appear to want money or power. The question was what did she want? The only thing in the world she seemed to care about other than music was Winslow. He paused. That was another thing he didn't understand…what exactly was going on there? She talked about Winslow like he was an older brother or a teacher. The way she seemed to care about him was so…_pure_. She loved as a child as well as thinking like one.

_And the white light…she healed my cut that Winslow left there…how did she do that? I don't think she's entirely human at all.._

In the twenty-something years ago when he'd signed his pact with the devil himself, Swan had gotten used to seeing things that he wouldn't ordinarily see. This girl was just one more part of it. He sincerely doubted that she was of demonic origin.

"I'll find out what makes you tick, my Dear," he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "and then I'll get it. And I think your Winslow might be the key. Who knew that letting him live would prove so useful?"

Winslow was angry. He was angrier than he'd ever been, but he forced it down inside and bottled it up tightly. He'd been sure to warn Melody about Swan's contracts and how dangerous it was to sign one. As a result, Swan himself seemed to know about their discussion and had never offered. Instead, he was trying to disprove the fact that he was the villain by making Melody as happy as he possibly could. They'd been all over New York tonight. Swan bribed his way into various places to keep the crowds down and they hadn't been bothered by anyone. Winslow had been able to get outside and do things for the first time since his accident with the record press. The catch was that it was just the three of them wherever they went. As a result, Winslow's mood had steadily soured throughout the evening and he hadn't enjoyed himself at all. Melody seemed oblivious to the strong tension between the two men. When she was preoccupied with something else, like perusing the shelves at the art museum's gift shop, they had taken to throwing veiled insults at each other.

"Look at this one, Winslow! It reminds me of you!" Swan held up a print of one of Picasso's paintings. One eye was all the way down on the cheek and the other up on the forehead. There was also a red smear on the person's cheek that was in the same proximity of the hole that his crushed cheekbone had punctured in his skin.

"How does that remind you of him? It doesn't look anything like him!" Melody laughed as Winslow stood there, fuming.

"I didn't know your likeness was in here," Winslow muttered, leaning against a statue of a demon imp, "and it's just the right size!"

Swan's face grew very red. He gave Winslow a Look while Melody burst into laughter all over again.

"You two are so _silly!_ Where are we going now?"

Once in the limo, they didn't talk to each other. Melody was too busy poking her head up through the sun roof again.

"You were right, Mister Swan! It _is_ prettier at night!" she exclaimed.

Winslow was relieved when Swan was tired enough of them both to drop them off at the Paradise.

"See you both tomorrow," he mumbled, shutting the door quickly. Melody yawned so much that her jaw clicked.

"Oh, goodness! My head's going to split in two! I didn't know anybody could get this tired!"

He let her inside where she tossed herself carelessly onto the makeshift bed.

"Good…night, Winslow," she yawned.

"Good night," he told her gently, pulling a blanket over her. As he made his way towards the bathroom, he heard her mumbling something that sounded like a prayer. Once he was sure was asleep, he stripped off his Phantom costume and turned on the shower. While the water was heating up, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His eye was no longer cloudy, but he could now see in detail just how much of a mess he was. His badly burned skin had healed, leaving behind reddish pink patches where they had formerly been blackened. His jaw was permanently dislocated, making his mouth hang slack most of the time. He ate soft food most of the time because trying to chew was painful. One finger ran over the scars over his throat. Another reason his mouth was usually open was because he couldn't breathe good through his nose. One long oval-shaped scar marred his abdomen where he'd been shot. Thankfully, the bullet had only nicked him there.

"You're still beautiful to me, Winslow."

Winslow nearly jumped out of his skin. Since he'd taken his voice gadget off, he could only grunt. She quickly covered her eyes.

"I'm sorry! I forgot about humans not liking to be seen when they're naked," she apologized. He retrieved his voice box and placed the microphone under his throat.

"I thought you were sleeping," he told her.

"I was. I am. Going right now! I just wondered if there was anything you wanted me to pray for."

"Go back to bed. I'll let you know."

"Okay. Good night…again…sorry."

She closed the door behind her and he breathed a sigh of relief. A small smile crossed his face as he glanced at the closed door.

_At least there's still some good in this world,_ he thought as he stepped into the shower, _I wonder how many of Melody's kind are among us and we just don't see them._


	4. Chapter 4

"Winslow? Wiiiiin-sloooow! Winslow! Wake up!"

Winslow grunted and rolled over. That voice was far too cheerful for this time of the morning. He blinked up at Melody's smiling eyes.

"I want to show you something. Come on! Up! Before you miss it!"

He felt as though he could do with another hour or two of sleep, but he dragged himself out of bed for her. After he'd situated his mask and his voice machine, he wearily dragged himself after her. The air outside was bone-chillingly cold, as was expected during December. He followed her up to the top of the roof.

"What's so important that you had to wake up this early?" he asked grumpily.

"That!"

She pointed to the sunrise. The potential snow clouds gathering on the horizon were colors he didn't think he had a name for. There were varying shades of turquoise, purple, pink, orange, red, yellow, gold, and white.

"Our Father does a lot of amazing things," Melody said softly, "but I like his paintings the best. Especially these."

Despite his overwhelming sleepiness, Winslow had to admit it was a pretty impressive view. The skyscrapers were outlined in glowing colors and the world was turning a rosy hue pitted with blue shadows.

"It's times like this that I miss my wings terribly," she told him, "when I'm up here, I almost feel like I can fly again. Like if I just jump off…"

His hand coming to rest on her wrist was no accident. She glanced down at it.

"Oh! Oh, no! I promise you I won't try to," she laughed, "that'd be silly. I'd splat like an egg in this body."

She jumped up as far as she could, but landed hard enough to jar her whole body.

"Ouch! Yeah…much too heavy. Oh, well…"

He saw her back twitch under her shirt.

"They were the purest white," she told him, "whiter than the snow that's coming. And huge! When I had them spread all the way out, they made me twice as wide as I was tall! I could go and go and go and never get tired. I seem like I always need to rest now."

Winslow stared off into the horizon trying to imagine what that must be like.

"I've been all around this country and over several others," she told him, "if I ever get my wings back, I'll take you. I've been to castle ruins in Ireland and Scotland. I've been to the North Pole and the South Pole. The polar bears really don't mind you being there unless you try to pet them. I scared one by accident once…"

He laughed.

"Everybody says men are violent," Melody told him, "but that's not always true. The women bears are the meanest ones when they have babies because they're so scared something bad might happen to them. It's kind of how Father is. He hates it when anyone messes with us."

She moved closer to Winslow until she was close enough to kiss him. For an awkward moment, he thought she was going to. But she didn't. Instead, she whispered in his ear:

"Want to know a secret? When I get scared, I don't stay scared for long. Know why? I know when I'm down here, even though I can't see Him, I know He can see me. Father's not going to let anything horrible happen to us. If He can see me, He can see you, too. Everything. Yeah, he saw all the bad stuff you did like killing that man, but He sees the people who hurt you, too. And if Mr. Swan truly did all those horrible things to you, He already knows about it."

Winslow got a cold chill that had nothing to do with the wind.

"He'll help you, Winslow. Just ask when you want it."

She looked down.

"I see Mr. Swan. I wish it would snow already…I think I could get him with a snowball from here!"

The image of Swan getting nailed in the face made Winslow grin.

"And I see…oh, is that Phoenix?"

Winslow joined her at the edge.

"That's her," he confirmed.

Melody grinned.

"I remember her! That's the girl you fell in love with! Uh-oh…she looks kind of sad."

Winslow frowned.

"Maybe we should go and talk to her," Melody suggested.

"If we can get her away from Swan," Winslow grumbled, "he doesn't let her out of his sight."

"She was out of his sight last night, wasn't she? I'll keep him busy for you if you want?"

He thought that over. The longer Melody was around Swan, the more likely something terrible was to happen. But he didn't want anything to happen to Phoenix, either.

They went down the stairs.

"Mr. Swan!" Melody hopped on the banister and slid down. She miscalculated her speed, however, and zinged straight into him. They both crashed to the floor. Melody saw Winslow's black-gloved hands snare Phoenix and pull her behind the corner when her vision stopped blurring.

"Ouch! I'm sorry! These pants are more slippery than I thought!" she apologized, disentangling herself. He grunted as he struggled to stand.

"Accidents will happen," he grunted. She placed her hand on his back. A few seconds of white light and song later, he was no longer doubled over.

"I forgot to thank you for taking me and Winslow to all those places last night," she told him, "the most wonderful thing happened! I had a dream! I think it was all those paintings we looked at. I dreamed I could go in and out of them. I know it's not real, but it was still really cool."

He stared at her. It took him several doses of the pills he carried around in his briefcase before he was that alert.

"Did someone give you coffee again this morning?" he asked wearily.

"No! Where's coffee? Coffee where? Show me!"

Despite his hangover, he laughed.

"So…there's not any? Well, Crudbuckets!"

She crossed her arms.

"When my assistant gets here, I'll have her bring some," he said patiently, "now, where did Phoenix go?"

Of course, by then, Winslow had dragged Phoenix up to the roof and they were well away from Swan. As Swan kept looking and Melody kept interrupting and distracting him, Winslow and Phoenix were watching the world transform on the roof.

"What's happened to you, Phoenix? You aren't anything like you were before," Winslow protested.

"How would you know how I was? I don't even know you! This is twice you've hauled me up here, and for what? You know what I think, Mr. Paradise Phantom? I think you're jealous because you didn't make it and I did! And I was willing to do what it took!"

Phoenix wrenched her arm out of his grasp.

"Please, Phoenix, listen," he pleaded, "you're not happy. I can tell you're not. You don't love him, you just love what he can offer you! He steals more than just songs, Phoenix! He steals people's souls! He took mine and now he's going to take yours and destroy it!"

She stared at him darkly. Now that the light was better, he pulled a deep breath in and yanked his mask all the way off. His shaggy blonde hair caught the light from the rising sun and turned a rich gold. His eyes were as blue as the turquoise sky above them.

"See? I don't look exactly the same. My head was crushed in the record press when I came here to try and get my music back. I have to use this thing to talk because my vocal cords were destroyed. But I'm still the same inside!"

"No," she said, eyes filled with tears, "you're not. As far as I knew, Winslow Leach didn't kill people. He didn't blow things up and electrocute people and strangle people to make a point! That Winslow is dead! And you? You're just the corpse he left behind…"

She began to cry, much to Winslow's horror. He moved to comfort her, but she threw his arm back off her shoulders.

"Don't touch me! Swan may not be perfect, but he's not a murderer! If you love me so much, why don't you just leave me alone and let me be happy?"

Winslow felt a tear trickle down his cheek. He felt naked enough without the mask, but his heart was exposed now, too.

"That's why," he choked out, "because what makes you happy right now will hurt you! Even if you never want to see me again, please just leave this place! Go and never come back! Just do this one thing for me and I can rest in peace knowing I saved you!"

She shook her head.

"You can't even save yourself."

Her heels clicked as she walked down the stairs. Winslow watched her go. The crushing, agonizing pain from seeing her in Swan's bed was no longer there. It was replaced by a dark emptiness, an ugly realization that she'd called him on his flaws. He stood there for a long time, chilled down to his soul. His tears felt like ice on his cheeks. Looking up at the sky, he cried out:

"She said you'd help me! Here I am, Lord! If you are there, help me! Show me it's not all in my head!"

His throat hurt. Feeling nauseated and dizzy, he had to sit down for a few minutes before he could get back inside. He hoped Melody wouldn't be upset that it was all for nothing.

"There you are," Swan said affectionately when Phoenix entered his office, "I was wondering what kept you."

"Just a little…delay. Sorry."

"Did you have a nice talk with Winslow?" Melody asked, "He really misses you."

Both Swan and Phoenix gave her strange looks.

"He isn't _bothering_ you, is he?" Swan asked.

Phoenix shook her head quickly.

"No, no. It's all right. I took care of it. I don't think it'll happen again."

Melody, for some odd reason, was frowning heavily.

"I hope he's all right," she muttered. She found herself wondering if she'd made a mistake in being so open about what had happened.

"Well, here's our coffee," Swan said a little too cheerfully, "let's talk about tonight's show, shall we? Phoenix, this is Melody. Melody, Phoenix. The two of you are very impressive on your own, but I think you might be even better together. What do you say?"

Melody suddenly felt like she was suffocating. The very air around Phoenix seemed to darken a shade or two, though neither she nor Swan noticed the difference. Melody swallowed quickly.

"Well…maybe I shouldn't," Melody backed out quickly, "she's been doing this longer than I have and I don't want to intrude…"

"Nonsense. The crowd will love you both."

Melody couldn't take the tension any longer.

"Excuse me. I need to….uh…empty…again."

She ducked into the bathroom and closed the door.

"Where did you get her?" Phoenix asked.

"Don't worry, Darling," Swan said, "she's just a mental case that Winslow picked up off the street. You have nothing to fear from her!"

"If you say so…" Phoenix muttered, though she doubted that.

The toilet flushed conspicuously and Melody returned.

"Let's go to the studio and get started, shall we?"

He noticed that Melody and Phoenix kept their distance from each other as they walked down the hall.


	5. Chapter 5

Melody searched all over the roof. She frowned.

"Winslow? Are you still up here?"

She found him sitting with his knees tucked under his chin. The nose of his mask was buried in the crack between them. His eyes were closed.

"Are you all right, Winslow? What happened? You'll freeze to death up here!"

He didn't answer.

"Was it Phoenix?" she asked dejectedly.

Seeing his shoulders slump further, she knelt down beside him and put her arms around him.

"Sorry…I thought she'd feel better seeing you again. You're such a nice man. I don't think she likes me very much, either. I think she's afraid Mr. Swan likes me better, but I told her that probably would never happen since he gave her a ring. He didn't give me a ring, so it's okay. I told her I like everybody the same and I bet Mr. Swan does, too."

Winslow leaned into her hug. Sweet, simple Melody. He hoped that her time on earth would be spent in this innocent state of mind. She gave him a sort of numbing effect on his emotional pain.

"Can we go inside yet? I brought food and it's probably getting cold."

He followed her without really seeing where he was going. The whole rest of the world seemed blurry.

"It took me a while to escape, sorry about that. Mr. Swan sure does love his music," she said. Upon seeing Winslow's menacing expression, she winced.

"Oh, uh…right. He sure does love _your_ music, I guess. Since you're the one that wrote it."

"It doesn't even sound like what I wrote," he lamented angrily, "Swan keeps changing it!"

"But what if we changed it back? Would that make it better?" she asked.

"Yes. Yes, it would."

"I have an idea."

She took the cheeseburgers she'd bought from the little restaurant down the street from the paper bag. There was so much grease that the bags were practically transparent. She'd had to beg Swan just to let her go get her own food because she wanted to eat with Winslow today. Phoenix, wanting to talk to Swan in private, had readily sided with her and even given her the money.

"What if," she said, unwrapping hers, "we played a little trick on Mr. Swan? What if we rewrote your songs the way you want and then switched them right before music time starts? I'll tell him I did it. He might get a little mad, but he'd forget after a while."

"I couldn't ask you to do that," he told her.

"I want to. I hate seeing you so sad. It's my job to help you, remember?"

She took a bite out of her sandwich and about half the contents dumped out the other end.

"Aw, man! Now I know why they call it 'fast food'. If you don't eat it quick, it escapes!"

Winslow started laughing so hard that he nearly got choked. The look on Melody's face alone had been priceless. Getting tickled at the sound of his laugh, she did, too. It took them several minutes to settle down.

"Father makes his own music," Melody said when she'd finally recovered, "and His instruments are different than yours: birds, heartbeats, wind blowing the leaves around in fall, a waterfall splashing…but I think your laugh is my favorite one."

Genuinely touched, he squeezed her hand.

"And yours," he said quietly, "is mine. I never got a chance to thank you just for being there for me, even when I couldn't see you."

"You're welcome. You were there just as much," she said, "I could listen to you play your mom's old piano for hours. Will you play for me later?"

"Of course."

Phoenix stood in front of the mirror. She turned this way and that. She seemed to be losing weight, though she didn't know why. Her hair was losing its luster. Her skin was pale and ashen. She couldn't understand why.

"I'm getting married," she said to her reflection, "to a man who has it all. He loves me. He appreciates me. He has money and power and I'd never want for anything."

"So why aren't you happy?"

Phoenix nearly jumped out of her skin. She glared at the door, seeing Melody standing there.

"Sorry if I interrupted, but Mr. Swan told me to bring you this. The costume lady finished your dress and he wants you to try it on. Do you mind if I see? It looks really pretty in the box, but I bet it looks even better on you."

She gave the box to Phoenix.

"Oh, all right."

She took the dress and stepped into the bathroom. Melody waited by the dressing room mirror.

"Can I ask a question? Winslow was really sad earlier and I'm worried about him. Why?"

Phoenix kicked her tight jeans aside with more force than necessary.

"He was bothering me and I told him to leave me alone! He's just mad because he didn't get his way!"

Melody frowned.

"Did he know he was bothering you?"

"He does now and that's all that matters!"

"If he said he was sorry, would you forgive him?"

Phoenix stuck her head out of the door, her expression a mixture of disbelief and irritation. Melody's expression, however, was of sincere concern.

"He's my best friend," Melody said quietly, "I can't stand to see him sad. I don't like it when anybody's sad. You, either. I hate when people fight. Why are you so mad at him?"

Phoenix's head disappeared again as she tugged the dress over it.

"Because Winslow Leach used to be a wonderful man and now he's a freaking murderer! You didn't see it, did you? Be glad you didn't. He threw a neon lightning bolt at Beef and the man died of electrocution and he was nothing more than a pile of ashes when Winslow got through with him. He strangled an innocent man to death just so he could watch me sing! He put a _bomb_ on our stage just to scare us all and make Swan do what _he_ wanted! That, Melody, is why I can't stand him!"

"He did some really bad things, yes," Melody sighed, "but everybody deserves another chance. Even him."

Phoenix sighed.

"There's nothing left of the man I met in line that night."

"Yes, there is!" Melody argued, "there's darkness inside every human being and there's a lot in him! But that Winslow, the one that you thought was so great, he's in there, too! That Winslow needs your help! Each time he tries to talk to you, he's asking for it! He's trusting you! He needs you, Phoenix. He needs you in a way that nobody else can help him. I can make him laugh for a few minutes at a time, but you can make him laugh all of it!"

Phoenix came out of the bathroom in the tight black sequined dress.

"I need help with the zipper," she muttered. Melody dashed over to her and carefully slid it up.

"You look beautiful," she assured her, "and when you're happy, you'll be even more beautiful. This is the kind of dress I bet he'd dance with you in!"

That childish grin was there again. When Phoenix looked at Melody's face, she saw a child in an adult body. She saw a little girl who still believed in fairy tales and right always winning. She no longer despised her.

"I'll think about it."

"All right!"

She nodded.

"How did you meet Winslow, anyway?"

"He found me outside in the rain. I got lost and he gave me food and a place to stay. He's my best friend," Melody said, "he could be yours, too, if you want."

_I wish it were all that simple,_ she thought bitterly.

"Well…you can tell Swan the dress fits," Phoenix said, not knowing what else to say.

"Okay!"

And just like that, she was gone again. Phoenix stood in front of the mirror again. She thought not of the dark masked Phantom, but of a messy-haired man with a big smile and the gentlest blue eyes in existence that twinkled when he laughed. She'd had some good times with Swan, but there was a part of her heart that even Swan hadn't been able to touch the way Winslow had.

"She looks perfect," Melody told a very harassed-looking Swan. He was on the telephone with somebody and having a vicious argument by the sound of it. The ashtray was full of stubs and his hands were shaking.

"This can't go public! It can't! Buy him out! Do whatever it takes, but don't let that go to the press!"

A pause.

"BECAUSE IT CAN'T!"

Swan slammed the phone down and said a few not very nice things. Melody gasped audibly.

"Sorry about that," he growled, "now, what did you say earlier?"

"I said Melody's dress looks perfect."

"Good. Now go and try yours on."

"Mine?" she was puzzled.

"Yes, over there! Hurry up! We haven't got much time! You have to have your makeup done and your hair and the show's going to start before you know it. I have to get all these divas ready for the stage."

Melody picked up the box.

"Are you all right? You look kind of…well, sick."

"You would be, too, if you spent half a day trying to sort out someone's mess!"

She walked over to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. There was no little song this time—she merely closed her eyes. He glanced down, startled, when he actually saw an unnatural shadow in his body crawling upward to be absorbed in the white light of her palms.

"There's more than I thought there'd be," she commented, "so much more…what have you been doing, Mr. Swan? There's so much…_darkness_…"

Just as the sick headache he'd been fighting off all day lifted, she toppled over.

"Melody!"

He helped her up.

"What happened?"

She made it to the bathroom with less than a second to spare. The stuff that she threw up into the toilet was the most disturbing sight he'd ever seen: it was black and oily looking. It seethed and writhed like a living thing, sloshing around in the bowl and seeming to want to escape. She fearfully slammed her hand down on the handle and it swirled away, leaving no traces behind.

"I….I….took it back…" she shivered, now white as a ghost, "I…made it go inside me…but it didn't like the light…so horrible, so ugly….saw things…"

Not being able to make sense of it, he awkwardly busied himself with getting her a glass of water. At first, she refused it, then swallowed it quickly.

"Are you all right?" he asked her stupidly. _Of course she isn't. Anyone who looked at her would see that._

"I'll be okay…" she whimpered, tears stinging her eyes, "….just need to sit for a minute."

Then, something else happened that he didn't expect: he began to hurt as well. Not in his gut, like she did, but in his chest. He felt suffocated and burned as if he'd swallowed an ember. It passed as quickly as it went.

_Oh, my…I know what she is! I know who she is! Finally! Well, isn't this convenient,_ he thought coolly, _an angel…I actually did snatch an angel from God's own hands…nothing will be able to stop me now!_


	6. Chapter 6

Winslow was at his keyboard, sighing with frustration. The trash can was overflowing with wadded up papers, some that had made it in, some that scattered around it. Melody had been downstairs all day, as Swan wanted her to practice with Phoenix as much as possible. He'd been commanding more and more of her time as of late. As much as Winslow hated to admit it, he was lonely without her. After a couple of days in isolation, he was growing restless. He missed their talks on the roof. By the time she got in, she was usually exhausted. Not to mention, this was the second time he'd re-written this whole series of songs. He couldn't give up, though. There'd been blood spilt for all this. Upon realizing he'd essentially fallen for the same trick that Faust himself had, he'd been furious with himself.

_Really, what was I thinking when I signed that thing? I of all people should have seen this coming,_ he thought brokenly. Maybe Phoenix was right. He'd gotten carried away, and for what? His life was never going back to normal. He thought of the bright, cold day outside and of walking around the city, looking at the Christmas decorations going up. Now, he could only watch from a distance. Ugh…

"I need a break," he muttered, willing the headache that was looming to stay away. He decided to go see how Melody was doing. He slipped unnoticed into the rafters of the stage. Phoenix, as always, was doing a good job. Melody was trying to imitate her, but the heels she was wearing were too high. As a result, she went down flat on her face.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed.

"Stop the music!" Swan yelled. He walked over to her and helped her up.

"Why are you smiling? That's the tenth time you've fallen today," he said impatiently.

"Well…I can always get better, can't I? Let me try it without these shoes. I think I'd be a little less clumsy."

She kicked them off across the stage. One shoe made it safely against the wall, but Philbin happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and the other one knocked him soundly on the head.

"Sorry, Mr. Philbin! I really am!" Melody was mortified. Swan smacked himself in the forehead. Phoenix was struggling not to laugh.

"Let's try it again, shall we?"

Melody had been right. Without the shoes, she could dance much better. In fact, the improvement was vast.

"I can move and my feet don't hurt! YAY!" she squealed.

"I need an aspirin," Philbin muttered.

"I need a drink," Swan muttered.

"You guys need to smile more!" Melody chimed in.

She dropped to the stage when the music was over, sweating profusely.

"It's kind of hot in here," she lamented, "can I please take a break?"

"Yes. Go on."

She walked off the stage to the bathroom next door.

"How's practice coming?"

Melody nearly jumped out of her skin. Winslow appeared from the shadows.

"Don't do that! You almost made me jump onto the ceiling!" she scolded him. Leaning against the wall for support, she braced both bare feet against the cold tile. It felt so good.

"I don't think Mr. Philbin and Mr. Swan are very happy with me," she said glumly, "they want me to be ready to go on tonight. It's harder than it looks."

"Why do you care so much about making Swan happy? You should worry about making yourself happy," Winslow told her.

"He may have done some mean things, but he's been really nice to me. I wanted to do something nice for him. But gosh I'm tired!"

She allowed herself to slide to the floor.

"I'm ready for a nap."

"You don't have to go on tonight if you don't want to," Winslow reminded her.

"I do," she sighed, "when my feet stop hurting and I stop being told how not perfect I am, it'll be nice. There will be all kinds of people watching and Mr. Philbin and Mr. Swan can stop worrying and sit back and watch, too."

Winslow helped her up.

"You remind me of someone," he said gently.

"Who?" she asked.

"Me."

He remembered the days before the Paradise and Swan had come into his life. He'd lived in a rathole apartment where he'd wished he could charge the rats and roaches rent. He'd gone without eating for several days in a row because he was having trouble finding a job with his newly minted music degree from college. Even on the nights where he lay awake in his second-hand couch-bed thing, he'd smile and remember that things were _going_ to get better. When he'd gone on dates with girls and told them about his aspiring music degree and they'd all laughed in his face, he'd tell them to stick around, that they wouldn't regret it. Oh, how things had changed!

"Yeah…" Melody smiled, "I remember it, too."

She'd followed him like a silent shadow, always there but not revealing herself. She'd been present when he'd had piano lessons, voice lessons, pitfalls, and triumphs. She'd sat cross-legged in the floor as he'd pounded away at his old piano and listened intently with each note played.

"I have a question," Winslow said as they went upstairs, "that night that I went out with that blonde lady….Marie or whatever her name was. I remember that her drink tipped over for no good reason at all and spilled right in her lap when she said I wasn't going to make it. Was that you, by any chance?"

Melody's mischievous grin told him everything.

"Guilty," she admitted.

"Why her and not the others?" he asked.

"Because she was seeing another man at the time. I walked in on them by accident. It was really weird…I don't have any idea what they were doing, but I left. It felt…wrong somehow…to watch. I heard a lot of noise and he was on top of her. I thought he was hurting her at first because of the noise, but she was smiling. And…"

"All right, I get it."

He didn't want to picture one of his former girlfriends being intimate with somebody else. He had enough bitterness in his life at the present.

"Winslow? What were they doing?" Melody asked.

Winslow's face grew very, very red underneath his mask and he was glad she couldn't see it.

"Your…um…father didn't explain it to you?" he asked.

"No. Not really. Since I've lived here at the Paradise, I've seen at least three different couples do that. What are they doing?"

Winslow's face was growing hotter by the second. He didn't turn to face her and instead opened the door to their now shared room.

"Please tell me?"

No reply.

"Okay…if you don't tell me, I'll have to ask them myself."

"That's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

"They might get mad if you bother them."

"Why?"

Winslow groaned. At this point, he was very grateful he didn't have children.

"They're making babies, Melody."

The words sounded ridiculous as soon as they left his mouth. He wasn't sure how detailed he could get without dying of embarrassment. He also wasn't sure how far he could take that explanation without making her lose too much innocent.

"They are? Oh, that's wonderful! I love babies! It must be really hard work though—they breathe like they've been running!"

Despite his growing mortification, Winslow could only laugh.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" Melody asked.

She yawned and curled up on the bed.

"If Mr. Swan comes looking for me, will you tell him I'm sleeping?"

"Yes."

Her eyes slid closed and she didn't say another word.

Phoenix reached the dressing room just as Melody did that evening. Some of the tension had eased between them.

"I really hope Winslow's watching tonight," Phoenix said, "this _is_ his song."

"He'll be here," Melody said, "he promised."

She examined herself in the mirror.

"I look way different," she commented. Her hair had been styled and sprayed so much that it added at least another inch of height. Her face was heavily caked in bright makeup and her dress was a little on the drafty side in her opinion. Philbin had brought her some more sensible shoes, at least. She turned her toes out and they glittered in the light.

"I hope none of these ladies hurt their babies tonight with all the dancing," Melody said randomly.

"Babies? What are you talking about?" Phoenix asked, touching up her makeup a little bit.

"I keep seeing people everywhere, like after the shows and stuff. They're always piled up on each other like kittens and they're all breathing hard. I asked Winslow what they were doing and he said they were making babies. If that's true, there's going to be a lot of them soon."

"Not as many as you think," Phoenix said awkwardly, "it doesn't always work."

"It doesn't? Wow…no wonder they keep trying."

"Melody, how old are you?"

Melody frowned.

"I've only had one birthday if that's what you mean."

"No, that's not possible. You look at least twenty to me."

"Twenty? That's old!" Melody seemed genuinely surprised. Then, she looked in the mirror.

"Oh, yeah…I forgot. Humans age different," she said reluctantly, "you must mean in human years."

Phoenix stared.

"Why are you talking like you aren't?"

Melody turned to face her.

"I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet," Melody said, "everybody else has. At least Winslow did the first night. Mr. Swan knows, I can feel it. I'm not really a human, I just look like one."

_She can't be on drugs,_ Phoenix thought, _her eyes are far too clear._

"Feel my back."

She did so reluctantly. The two hard ridges on her back shouldn't have been there.

"What the…"

"I'm from up there," Melody said, pointing to the ceiling, "I fell down when I was trying to find Winslow. This weird monster thing told me another monster was going to eat Winslow if I didn't find him. He said I'd be able to find Winslow faster if I could see the way humans do. He tricked me."

Phoenix stared.

"I can do some things other people can't," Melody said, "watch."

She placed her hands on Phoenix's shoulders. A glow shone from under her fingers and traveled down Phoenix's body. Instantly, the exhaustion from the day lifted along with the nausea from the nervousness. Phoenix suddenly felt very energized and calm.

"How did you do that?" she demanded.

"I took the bad stuff out of you. See?"

Melody held what looked like a ball of smoke in her palm. It was dark and murky like an oil fire. Melody blew on it and it disappeared.

"I went to do that to Mr. Swan the other day, but there's a lot more in him," she said, "it made me really sick. I have to figure out how not to get sick when I do it."

"What happened?"

"I threw up a lot. I felt really bad afterwards," she explained, "I felt a lot more. Something really serious is going on with Mr. Swan and he won't tell me what it is. Maybe you can get him to tell."

Phoenix frowned.

"So…the worse somebody is, the more…whatever that just was comes out?"

"Yeah," Melody said, "yours was normal. Winslow's was normal. But Mr. Swan's…it's almost like there's something evil inside of him."

"Evil?" Phoenix was vaguely offended, but even she had to acknowledge that some of the things that Swan was doing were unethical.

"He took Winslow's music and said it was his, but I think there's more to it," Melody said, "even that wouldn't make him so sick."

There was a noisy knock at the door.

"You're on, ladies! Let's go!" Philbin's impatient voice shouted.

"Coming!" Melody called.

It was dark onstage. Melody and Phoenix made their way cautiously to make sure they didn't trip over any props. Once they were situated, the music started and the lights came on. Swan was hiding in the archway at the back of the auditorium and Winslow had taken up a perch in the rafters. Phoenix's dark alto voice was complimented by Melody's high, clear soprano. They were an instant success and the crowd was cheering wildly. Melody's own fatigue melted away as she fed off the positive energy and returned it in triple. Winslow could have sworn that he saw the air actually rippling around her, but it could have been a trick of the light. What he didn't realize was that Melody was actually doing it.

Even Swan at the back of the room could feel it. The invisible waves washed over the crowd, over the cast and stage crew, and over him, too. At first, the darkness rejected it and fought back. The side of him that was still human soaked it up. Never had he felt something this strong.

_I have to keep her here,_ he thought greedily, _these people are eating her up. Imagine the power…_

He noticed that Phoenix seemed to be preoccupied. She was wonderful, but he caught the faraway look in her eyes even from here. He made a mental note of it to talk to her about later.

"Good show tonight," Philbin remarked as the girls sprinted ahead of the noisy crowd.

"Thanks!" Melody panted. She slammed the door behind them.

"Whew! That was close!" she gasped, sagging onto a chair.

"Yes, it was," Phoenix breathed, "I wish they'd go home. I just want to take a hot bath and go to sleep."

"True…"

"Wonderful, girls," Swan said, squeezing through the door. He was carrying two bouquets of flowers in his arms: red roses for Phoenix and yellow ones for Melody.

"Thank you! I've never gotten flowers before!" Melody buried her face in them. While she was distracted with the roses, Swan and Phoenix shared a kiss behind her. Swan stroked Phoenix's cheek affectionately. As she stared into his eyes, she wondered how someone with such a sweet boyishly rounded face could possibly be as bad for her as Melody said. Many things flashed through her mind.

"What's the matter, Darling?" he asked, sensing her unease.

"I'm just exhausted," she told him, "I think I may be coming down with a cold."

"Not feeling up to celebrating, then?" he asked.

"Not really," she admitted.

"Well, then, I'll escort you out and get you a ride home. You get some rest, all right?"

He glanced over his shoulder at Melody, who was stroking the soft petals of her flowers by the mirror.

"Stick around, Melody. There's something I want to talk to you about."

She nodded, her expression unusually pensive.


	7. Chapter 7

Melody washed her face and changed into her regular clothes. She sat with her chin in her hand.

"I wish you were here, Father," she sighed, "I know you're here, but I can't see you. My memory's getting so fuzzy…I can't remember what you look like or sound like and it's breaking my heart. Mr. Swan's getting sicker and he's going to take Winslow and Phoenix with him…I don't know what to do. Can you just come down here, just this one time? Just once and tell me what to do?"

A light flickered above her head.

"You won't come down because I have a body? Why not?"

Something must have spoken to her because she heard it though no one else could.

"Yeah…it would kill it. So I'm staying in flesh for a little while longer?"

An inaudible answer.

"You planned this the entire time?"

A pause.

"Okay…so I didn't disappoint you?"

Silence.

"That's good. I was beginning to think you were angry with me."

A pause.

"I love you, too…I'm so homesick right now I could cry…but I don't want to cry. It makes my head hurt.

Pause.

"What do I do about Winslow, though? And Phoenix? If they both signed papers, wouldn't I only have to hide them or burn them? Is it more complicated?"

This time, there was an odd humming that sounded like an electricity current, but more sinister somehow.

"I know…they're bound to Mr. Swan and he's bound to…" she shivered, "…I don't want to think about that. Poor Mr. Swan. I know he's doing something terrible, but can't we fix it? Can you talk to him?"

The hum grew louder.

"Oh. I have to do it. I don't think he'll listen. He likes running this big place and getting lots of money every night and…girls? Why does he need more than just one girl? Isn't Phoenix enough? She's pretty, she's nice, and…oh…"

She made a face.

"That's not nice. Not nice at all. I'll have to try to get him to leave the other ones alone if they're going to be married."

She played with one of the flowers.

"I wonder what he wants to talk to me about."

As if warning her of what was to come, a pen rolled across the dresser and brushed her fingers.

"A pen? It's something to do with writing, doesn't it? Oh no! He's going to give me a paper? But Winslow said I can't do it! He says I'll get in trouble!"

She looked up at the ceiling.

"What do I do?"

The pen suddenly hurled itself against the wall and bounced off with a loud clatter. One of the roses in her hand suddenly withered and dried up.

"Oh, I get it…" she smiled warmly, "…thanks, Father."

There was a brief knock on the door. Winslow walked in, not noticing the withered rose she was now holding or the pen in the floor.

"Is it safe to come out now?" she asked half-jokingly.

"As empty as a church on Monday," Swan announced, "come with me, please."

"Where are we going?" Melody asked as he tucked one hand inside her elbow.

"Would you like to see my house?"

"Sure…" she said hesitantly, "just let me write a note for Winslow. He might worry if I don't go upstairs soon."

She scrawled a hasty note on the back of a flier for Winslow. It was written in a shaky, childish hand. Unknown to Swan, Winslow was lurking in the shadows nearby and already knew she was leaving.

_Not on your life, Swan!_ He thought darkly, _I'm not letting you trick her. I'll pick her up and run with her to the ends of the earth if I have to!_

Out of instinct, his hand clamped around the hilt of his dagger, though it wouldn't do any good to try and stab Swan. He would simply have to protect Melody by evasion. Hurrying off into the dark, he decided to try and beat them there.

Melody got into the limo and settled into the plush seat. Swan got in beside her and the driver took off.

"Would you happen to know what's really wrong with Phoenix? I don't think she was telling me the truth," Swan said casually.

"She's just really tired," Melody said, reluctantly only half-truthing, "she was tired before we went on. The truth is I'm kind of tired, too."

"Yes, I know. I've worked you both very hard and that's why you're both getting a break tomorrow. No practices, no recordings, no nothing."

"Thanks," Melody smiled, "I was hoping I could talk Winslow into going to the park with me. I like to go down there and watch the ducks fight over the bread that I throw to them. The silly things act like they're never going to eat again!"

She giggled.

"I suppose they don't know that God feeds them," she said wistfully, "I wish I could just tell everybody to stop worrying and doing bad things because they don't have to be afraid."

Swan felt that she was trying to tell him something, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Well, we're here!" he announced, helping her out of the car.

"_This_ is where you live?" she asked, jaw dropping.

"Yep. The Swanage."

"It's huge! There must be lots of people in there!" she guessed.

"Nope. Just me unless I invite other people in."

Melody frowned.

"This whole big thing is just for you? Why don't you share it? There are people sleeping in trash cans and under bridges," she said, "I tried to let them in to stay with us, but the guys out front keep running them off."

He sighed with annoyance. The saint-like things she was saying were getting on his nerves.

"Yes. Well, I paid a lot for this place and I don't want some out-of-work drunks stealing from me and tearing up my home."

Melody frowned.

"Not all of them are drunks, Mr. Swan. Some of them are having trouble getting work. You could hire them, you know! You have so much more than one man could possibly use in his lifetime…you could help a lot of people!"

"Melody, let me explain something to you," he said, letting her in, "I run a business. I pick the best singers, the best costume-makers, the best dancers, the best sound crew, and the best accountants. I can't just pick people because they happen to need a job. I need to pick the ones who can do it best. That's why I have more than other people have. If I gave out everything to everybody and didn't ask for anything in return, I would go broke and starve."

She tilted her head the way a puzzled puppy does.

"Okay, so don't give out a lot. Just give out a little. I've seen the people who work at the Paradise. I've talked to them. Your singers and dancers are exhausted and Mr. Philbin gives them medicine to feel better, but they just end up getting sicker in the end. They're so tired, Mr. Swan. Why don't you hire more and trade them off every other day or something? It would help them and help you, too."

Swan smiled.

"And here I was thinking you didn't have a clue how this worked…I might actually try that."

Melody smiled.

"Now, then. Since we're on the subject," he said in his business-tone, "you've done such a good job that I want you to work for me. Permanently."

"I would get money?" Melody asked, "And I could give some to Winslow?"

"It'll be yours. You can do whatever you want with it. No more begging."

"…okay, but there's something I should probably tell you, first."

She seemed to shrink further into the plush white leather couch they were sitting on.

"What?" he asked impatiently.

"I'm not going to be here much longer."

"Why? Going somewhere?"

"No," she sighed, "I'm dying."

"What do you mean _dying?_ You can't die. I know what you are, Melody. Under that flesh, there's an immortal soul."

Melody sighed, her eyes glittering with tears.

"That's just it, Mr. Swan. I'm not meant to be here in this skin. I can't heal as fast as I used to. I'm starting to feel kind of icky all the time and it's like I'm dragging around something heavy with me. I have to be with my Father to get better, but I've been cut off from him for so long…"

She dabbed her eyes with the sleeve of her coat.

"I made it worse when I tried to help you," she said, "I swallowed some of your darkness and it didn't all come back up…I can't get it to leave me because I'm fleshed. I'm starting to forget my home…I can't remember my Father's face and I'm starting to feel things that are foreign to me…"

She looked on the verge of having a meltdown. He quickly wrapped his arm around her.

"It's going to get better," he told her, "you're not going to die."

She blinked and a crystalline tear shone brightly on her cheek before he wiped it away.

"I am," she whimpered, "I feel it. And the worst part is that I'm feeling desires for things I shouldn't be. I'm not a human, yet there are so many human things I want to try. When I told Winslow about people doing weird things in the dressing rooms and behind the stage, he told me that people were making babies. And then all of a sudden, I wanted one, too. But I can't have one—it's against the rules. Besides, it would kill me faster. I saw that man that sings with the band kiss some other girl and I wanted kisses, too. I wanted to have a house of my own and sparkly dresses of my own and music of my own…and it's all completely against what I'm supposed to want!"

Outside in the bushes, Winslow sighed. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but she looked so distraught that he himself was beginning to get choked up.

"It's not wrong to want those things," Swan told her, "it's just part of being human. And I can help you with every single one of those things."

She looked at him through tear-filled eyes. He gave her a white handkerchief and she wiped her eyes and noisily blew her nose.

"I couldn't," she choked, "I just couldn't. In fact, I might not have a body for much longer, but I won't be so confused. I'll be the only angel who ever lived as a human and knows how hard it is."

She realized just how close to her face he was. Before she could react, Swan's lips were on hers.

Winslow's horrible scream jerked them both out of their moment. Melody gasped. Swan was in fight mode now and he stormed over to the sliding glass doors.

"You!" he snarled, pointing a finger at Winslow.

"Winslow!" Melody ran to him and threw her arms around him, "I thought you were still at the club."

Winslow hugged her back all while looking daggers at Swan.

"What the Hell is wrong with you?" he snarled, "Is Phoenix not enough for you? Are all the whores you hook up with every night not enough for you? You can't have her, too!"

Melody was trembling.

"Did I do something wrong?"

He didn't answer her.

"She said she'd never had a kiss and I gave her one," Swan snapped, "that was it."

Winslow was furious.

"I have had it up to here with you hurting people that are close to me! You get some kind of sick thrill from it, don't you? If you want to hurt me, go ahead and do it, but stop using Phoenix and Melody to do your dirty work! You're nothing more than a coward!"

"Stop, Winslow, please," Melody begged.

"She came here of her own free will, thank you very much! You aren't the boss of her!" Swan roared.

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!"

Both of them jerked back in surprise. Melody had stepped between them.

"I just…I just…" she started to choke up again, "…please…Winslow, I'll talk to you later when I come home…I can't stand it when people fight…just go home."

"Not without you," he said emphatically.

"You heard the lady! Get out of here, or I'll call the cops for trespassing!" Swan snapped.

Winslow glared at him.

"Please be careful," he mouthed to her. She nodded as he disappeared into the night.

"Oh no," she whimpered, "I made him mad…"

"No," Swan told her, "I did. Now, come inside. It's freezing out here."

She followed him reluctantly.

"Maybe I should go," she said, "all I did was make everybody mad."

"No. You did nothing wrong. Want to see the upstairs?"

She was temporarily distracted by the bright colors and the beautiful works of art hanging on the walls. When they came to his big bedroom with the skylight, she squealed and hopped onto the big, circular bed.

"It's huge!" she cried out, immediately starting to jump up and down on it. Relieved to see her laughing again, he let her do it until she ran out of breath.

"I like this room," she said, flopping down on it, "I can see the sky."

He lay down next to her.

"That's why I put it in here," he announced.

They lay side by side in silence for a few minutes longer.

"Now, about your job," he began again, "you have something I don't. You have something that can help me. I only ask for one thing. I can sing live with no problem, but when I record myself…"

He played a tape for her and she grimaced. The voice was dark and monstrous sounding.

"…I don't sound so good. Think you can help me out?"

She frowned.

"You know, Mr. Swan, it's because of the darkness in you."

"And I need you to take it out."

She went pale.

"I got sick," she reminded him, "I threw up really bad."

"Yes…that's unfortunate. I hate to even ask, but you're the only one who can help."

She frowned.

"I'll give you whatever you want, Melody. Whatever your heart desires the most."

"I want to help Winslow," she said finally, "it's always been about protecting him. I want him to be happy. He loves Phoenix, you know. He loves her more than anything."

"That's a tough one," he said reluctantly, "she's engaged to me, you know."

"Yes…" Melody said reluctantly, "…but you don't love her."

"How do you know?"

"Because I can feel it," she admitted, "I don't see light when you touch her. I don't hear music in my head when I see you together. If you loved her that much, you wouldn't have tried to kiss me earlier. You would have felt it was wrong like I did and you wouldn't have even thought of it."

Winslow sighed.

"All right. You've got me there," he said reluctantly, "but you're asking me to give up a lot."

"_I'm_ giving up a lot," Melody reminded him, "I may not even survive this. I have one other thing to ask."

"What's that?" he as almost afraid to know.

"Destroy their contracts," Melody said, "if I heal you, you won't need them."

"And if you…pass on….before it's completed?" he asked.

"It's a risk we're going to have to take," Melody said, "it's all a matter of how bad you really want your voice back."

He sighed.

"All right, fine! I'll go get their contracts right now."


	8. Chapter 8

Melody watched him start the fire in the fireplace. Together, they shredded the contracts and tossed them into the fire. The droplets of blood oozed out of the paper and hissed before evaporating.

"There. Now do you have everything you want?" he asked, annoyed.

"Yes," Melody said gravely.

The two of them walked into the bathroom together and he settled down into the floor beside the tub. Melody placed her hands on his throat. She prayed quietly, willing the darkness to come into her own body. Sensing the power it craved, it came eagerly and willingly. It was not the dark sludge of before, but a black cloud.

"Repent to my Father, Mr. Swan," Melody said nervously, watching it loom above her, "that's the only way we can truly kill it."

He said nothing, merely watching it. Whispers, creepy voices, writhing, seething, windy, gusty noises all tumbled around in the black cloud that was increasing in opacity and density. It was now the same size as him.

"If you don't repent of what you've done, Mr. Swan, it'll just grow back," Melody warned him.

Again, he was quiet.

The dark cloud suddenly descended on Melody like a plague, surrounding her. Her flesh grew deathly pale and she screamed as if in agony. The vomiting started all at once. He lost track of how much of the dark sludge poured out of her mouth, but it was a lot. Saliva foamed at the corners of her mouth and her whole body seemed to be tightening up at once. Her grip on the rim of the toilet was so tight that her finger bones seemed to be on the verge of tearing through her skin.

"Melody!" he called to her. No response. She fell backwards, her eyes fixed in a blank stare. Black sludge dripped from her pale lips. One arm began to shake, then her leg. Her whole body was suddenly wracked with seizures. Now panicked, Swan lunged for the phone.

Winslow, who had fortunately not listened, had been watching through the skylight. He couldn't see into the bathroom, but by the way Swan bolted out of there, it wasn't good. There was a loud crash as he thrust his foot through the pane of glass and dropped through the floor.

"MELODY!" he yelled, frightened. He found her laying in the floor and gathered her into his arms.

"What have you done to her?" he demanded when a white-faced Swan returned.

"She did it to herself," he informed Winslow, "she traded her healing powers for your contract. You should be grateful I was in such a generous mood."

"I swear on my own soul that if she dies, I will kill you! I won't stop until I find a way!" Winslow roared. He thumped Melody on the back, trying to clear what seemed to be an obstruction in her throat. More black stuff oozed out of her mouth, but she didn't show any other signs of life. The EMT's loaded her on a stretcher and whisked her away to the hospital. Winslow jumped into the passenger side of Swan's sports car. When Swan went to object, Winslow gave him a Look that actually made him cringe.

"Buckle up," he said sheepishly, momentarily forgetting about being immortal. They sped off after the ambulance.

….

Melody's body lay unconscious on the stretcher. By all mortal signs, she was out cold. Her eyes had been fixed in a blank stare, the pupils dilated so much that only a thin ring of dark greenish brown could be seen. She was unresponsive to everything going on around her. Her mind, however, was a very different matter.

Melody was aware of the nurses and doctors putting IV lines in and trying to figure out what was going on. Her body was taut from the seizures and it seemed like even in what amounted to a coma that it would not relax. Dribbles of black goo mixed with saliva foamed around her mouth.

"Her temperature is skyrocketing! We have to cool her down somehow!" one of the EMT's yelled. She grabbed an oxygen mask and slipped it over Melody's face. Watching from what looked like far away, Melody saw them working on her body. Her spirit was floating above it watching helplessly. From here, she could see that all the pent-up negative energy that had swallowed Swan up over the years was now infesting this body. It blotted out the bright signals of her nerves, the rainbows of memories stored in her brain. Melody felt as if she was being torn in two directions. Below, the failing body seemed to still be tethered to her somehow. From above, her home called her with its bright beacon, assuring her that she had not earned a permanent separation. Unable to go up or down, Melody's soul was forced to stay put.

She watched them wheel the stretcher in and was becoming aware of a dark whisper that emitted from her own lips.

_Oh, no…it's taking on a life of its own!_

She saw Swan and Winslow sprint from the car to the emergency room, demanding to know what was going on.

The change was remarkable. Swan had color in his cheeks. He seemed to genuinely regret having forced Melody into this. She could see his heartbeat under his skin and smell the adrenaline. For the first time in years, Swan was afraid. For the first time ever, he was talking to Winslow as an equal.

"I told her I'd destroy your contract if she did this for me. I didn't know it was going to kill her!" he panted, reaching the side of the bed. Winslow came to the other side.

_You knew,_ Melody thought bitterly, _you knew and you didn't care about me. I thought you were my friend, but you weren't. You were just using me the entire time…Winslow was right about you._

She noticed that Swan had strategically left out the fact that Phoenix's contract had been burned as well—perhaps Winslow didn't know about that. She wanted to tell him, but she didn't have a way to.

_All those terrible things…_she thought achingly, _the people you've lied to, the drugs, the alcohol, the women you hurt…I saw it all and I will never look at you the same way, Mr. Swan. Especially after what you did to Phoenix just to hurt Winslow…_

"You're still in there, Melody, I can feel it! Please come back!" Winslow pleaded, intentionally ignoring Swan.

"I really hate to tell you this, gentlemen," one of the doctors said, "but we need you to wait outside. We have to be able to access her from all sides. In two minutes flat, her temperature went from one hundred to one-oh-six. If we don't get that fever down, there could be some serious consequences."

The two of them reluctantly left.

They sat down in the hard plastic chairs.

"You know what, Winslow? I really envy you."

Winslow looked up, surprised.

"What do you mean?" he asked, the electronic voice not taking the shock out of his tone.

"You've always had the one thing I never had. Several things, in fact. Even when you're killing people, they like you better. You make friends so easily…I only get them when they want something."

Winslow could only stare.

"The only reason I know anything about music is because I've been around it for so long. I'm an old man in a young man's body. I have the head knowledge but I can't write to save my life. _That's_ why I stole your music."

He certainly looked older now. The fluorescent lights turned his golden hair an ashen tone and cast harsh shadows on his face. Even with the rose-colored glasses he always wore, the dark circles under his eyes were evident. It was the first time Winslow had ever heard him admit to doing something wrong. He was thoroughly stunned.

"All you had to do was ask my permission," Winslow scolded him, "would that really have been so hard?"

They sat in silence for a while.

"If she survives this, I'll never ask for anything again," he assured Winslow, "I swear it on what's left of my soul, at least."

Winslow's eyes narrowed.

"Good."

The silence was broken when Phoenix burst in. She looked like she'd been asleep—her hair was sticking up on one side and her clothes were all askew as if she'd tugged them on in a hurry.

"What happened? Philbin called me demanding to know why there was an ambulance parked in your driveway!"

She saw Winslow sitting one chair away from Swan and her eyes widened.

"Melody," she guessed.

"Yeah. Melody."

"What happened to her?"

It was Winslow who spoke first.

"Did she ever do the thing with the white light to you?" he asked.

"Yeah. Yesterday before we went on."

"She apparently tried to fix him and almost killed herself in the process," Winslow said acidly, "she's in very bad shape right now."

One of the nurses came out and all three of them looked up expectantly.

"Well?" Swan demanded sharply.

"It was a very close call," she said, "we had to resuscitate her at least three times before she stabilized. How long has she been sick?"

"Just since…well, now."

The nurse eyed him suspiciously.

"That girl has NOT been sick that much in the span of one hour," she argued, "the levels of low blood sugar and dehydration are so severe that it would take someone days of nonstop vomiting to reach them."

Swan shook his head.

"No, it was just this evening," he argued.

"The odd thing is that no germs turned up in her blood. Her white blood cell count is through the roof, but we found no traces of either a bacterial or viral infection. The seizures were caused by low blood sugar and high body temperature. We sent that black stuff she was vomiting to the lab, but no one can figure out what it is. Has she eaten anything unusual?"

"No."

"Is she on any medications or drugs we should know about?"

Winslow resisted the urge to smirk. The way the nurse asked the question, he guessed Swan had offered his little briefcase full of pills to several people.

"She doesn't so much as take a vitamin. Very fond of coffee, though."

"I doubt that could cause this problem. We broke the fever, but it might not stay down. Is there anything at all that any of you can remember that might help us out?"

"Afraid not."

"Well, you can go in one at a time and see her. She won't be responsive, most likely, but even comatose people benefit from their friends and family visiting."

The nurse led them to a curtained-off bed in the corner.

"You first, Winslow. You're the closest to her," Swan said, holding the curtain back. Winslow stared at him through narrowed eyes as he passed. He still didn't trust him.

Melody was hooked up to so many tubes and machines that it was hard to see her at first. A breathing machine whooshed as it pumped air in and out of her lungs. The heart monitor was distressingly slow. She was paler than the fluorescent lights and her pitch-black hair made her seem even more close to death. A thin sheen of sweat made her skin shine under the ghostly lighting. Winslow placed his hand on her forehead, the only place she wasn't covered.

"I'm here," he told her, "you saved my life. I hope one day I can return the favor."

He glanced both directions before removing his mask. Very gently, he kissed her forehead the way a big brother would kiss his little sister good night. There was a small change on the heart and brain monitors. Apparently, she could hear him to some degree. He longed to have his voice back so he could sing to her. Each time he tried, it would come out strange and alien-sounding.

"If you have to go home now, I understand," he whispered in her ear, "but I'm going to miss you terribly."

Phoenix came in next.

"I know we just met a few days ago," she told Melody, "but I consider you my best friend. You're the first person to not judge me. I see how patient you are and how optimistic and I hope I can be like that someday."

Swan went in last.

"I hope I'm not too late," he told her, "I hope you stick around. You've made such a difference in everyone's lives. Including mine."

He nearly jumped out of his skin when her mouth moved.

"You better enjoy your reprieve while you can, Swan! Because it will be your last!"

That horrible voice was not hers. It sounded so inhuman that his blood chilled.

"Who are you?" Swan demanded.

"I have many names," the voice replied huskily, "but you may call me Lillith."

"Lillith? Where's Melody?"

"Trapped. Still holding on by a thread," Lillith answered, "it would be so easy for me to cut the cord, but I'm only here to deliver a message. Your time is coming and I will personally be the one to rip you out of that artificial flesh!"

And just like that, Lillith was gone. Swan walked out of the curtain-room as white as Melody's sheets.


	9. Chapter 9

The machines beeped and whirred. The air smelled strongly of disinfectant and cleaning fluids. Everything about the hospital made Swan uncomfortable. Already, there was a noticeable difference in his perceptions, even his thoughts. He felt sick to his stomach when he looked down at the limp form in the bed. Winslow was glaring daggers at him and it actually mattered. It actually bothered him.

"She might make it," the doctor had told them both, "but it's going to be a close one. In all my life, I've never seen anything so strange."

As they'd been forced to stay in the waiting room for a little while, he'd come out to explain it to them.

"She's severely underweight," he'd said, "when we recorded her weight when you first brought her in, she was around one-fifty. Now she's dropped to just over a hundred and we're certain she's losing more than that. Her fat stores are being metabolized very quickly. She was so dehydrated that it looked like she'd gone without water for days. Her glucose levels were nearly nil and we think that's what did it—the combination of dehydration and low blood sugar. As for the stuff she was throwing up—we still don't know what it was. We sent it to the lab for analysis and they can't figure out what it is. There was one more thing we found interesting…if she consents to it, I'd like to run some more tests. When we x-rayed her for foreign objects in her digestive tract, we found some skeletal anomalies. There are extra bones in her back, almost as if she had-"

"Wings," Winslow supplied helpfully.

"Yeah…nobody would believe me if they hadn't seen these things."

The doctor had explained that they were basically going to give her some sort of seizure medicine and antibiotics to help her fight off infection though they couldn't figure out what she was infected with. They were going to try and get her hydrated again and put a feeding tube in so that she wouldn't have to deal with the nausea. The only thing the three of them could do was wait it out. All of them took up residence in Melody's room. It had taken a lot of bribing on Swan's part to get the nurses to overlook the non-family rule since it was an intensive care room, but the nurses eventually turned a blind eye.

"We _are_ her family," Swan had argued, "we're the only family she's got."

Winslow internally still felt like punching him. At first, he was sure Swan only gave a crap because Melody was helping bring in so much money. As time ticked away, however, his nervous fidgeting increased and he kept ducking into the bathroom to smoke with the vent on.

"I've never seen him this unglued," Phoenix remarked.

"Neither have I," he replied.

She walked to the window and looked out.

"Winslow?"

He came to join her.

"I know this sounds ridiculous…but you'd know…you've spent more time with Melody than we have…do you think she's…not human?"

It was the first time anyone had openly acknowledged it.

"She isn't," he replied bluntly, "she can't be."

"I know what she is," Swan replied, "but only a curse could make me see it."

They turned to see him still holding the stub of a cigarette. He flung into the garbage can beside the bed.

"She's an angel, and I don't mean in the lyrical sense. She came here to protect Winslow."

"But why as a human?" Phoenix asked.

"Because…she's under contract."

"What?!"

"She encountered a demon the night she was searching for Winslow," Swan explained reluctantly, "and he tricked her into taking on a human form. I'm sorry to say that I had a huge part in that."

Phoenix knew what was going to happen and seized Winslow by the arm before he could start towards Swan.

"I didn't know it was going to impact her so much! He said I could take her voice and borrow it when the time was right! I didn't know it was going to kill her!"

Phoenix was barely keeping Winslow in check. He was slowly dragging her forward with him inch by inch.

"The reason she's so sick is because of what I've done," Swan lamented, "I haven't aged, true. I have a lot of power, that's true. But I've paid for it with my voice and my appearance. Every recording of me ages in my place. I had to fix it somehow."

"So, you used me, you used her, and now you've used Melody," Winslow spat menacingly, "where does it end? Maybe living forever is a good punishment for you—you're such a despicable person that you'll always have to live with what you've done."

Swan bowed his head.

"She took the darkness out of me. And now I feel so much guilt…for the first time in years…"

"You should," Phoenix said angrily.

The accusations turned to admissions. Faced with the possibility that things were going to unravel quickly with Melody's passing, they all talked about the various things they'd done that they wished they could undo.

In the bed, Melody's eyes were closed and her breath was shallow. However, her mind was very much awake. It pushed against the raging fever, the oppressive effects of the drugs. They held her bound and gagged like a prisoner in her own body. She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. She was still from sedation rather than terror, but she was deathly afraid of what she was seeing. She could hear every word and as ecstatic as she was about Swan's bordering repentance, she couldn't tell them that something was very, very wrong. Willing herself to transcend the weaknesses of her failing body, she prayed.

Winslow nearly jumped out of his skin as a shower of sparks came from the equipment by Melody's bed. The lights began to flicker.

"What's going on?" Swan demanded.

"Must be a power surge," Phoenix answered uneasily. The lights went out. Everything went completely still. Swan's heart began to pound.

"_Swan…_" something hissed down the hall.

"What was that?!" Phoenix yelped.

"_Ssssswannnn…_"

Swan cursed under his breath. He knew deep down that this thing wanted him. He'd promised not to tell what was going on. He promised not to go back on his word.

"_Swan!_"

The voice was dry, crackled like dead leaves on fire. It was right outside the door now. Phoenix clung to his arm, trembling.

The door swung open with an ominous creak. They couldn't see anything but a shadow at first. Two bright yellow eyes peered at them from the darkness. In the gloom, they could just make out a flickering snake-like tongue.

"_Swan!_" it hissed, sounding very satisfied.

"Back off!"

All three of them turned to see Melody sitting up in bed. She pulled out the IV lines, wincing only slightly.

"You can't have him. He's under my protection," Melody said firmly. The monster laughed, a very disturbing sound.

"What are you going to do about it? You can't even fly," it laughed, "what chance do you stand against the Great Prince of Darkness?"

"I know a King," she said, "and my King is far more powerful."

The demon chuckled.

"As if he cares," he laughed, "he has seen you covet and lust and envy what you can't have. Your Swan here is a good example."

Melody winced slightly, but she came to stand in front of the others.

"Yes," she said bluntly, "I've become more human. I want what I can't have. But don't they all to some degree? You want what you can't have. You aren't getting it."

The demon hissed menacingly and started forward. Winslow drew his dagger.

"Save yourself the trouble," the demon told him, "I will be coming for you, too, but in your own time. Only one will die tonight."

Melody held out one hand. It rested gently on the demon's chest and he snarled at her.

"He's done terrible things, yes. They all have. But they all deserve a second chance. Even Mr. Swan. He has good in his heart even if he doesn't know it. I've seen it locked away in there. He's still got a pulse. He can still make up for it."

"God does not want Swan. Swan turned his back on God and God has forsaken him."

"Never."

The demon lunged, but Melody was faster. She clung to him tightly, slowing his progress. He hissed and threw her out of the way. Before he could touch Swan, who was now flattened against the wall, bolts of electricity shot out of the fallen girl and formed a sphere around him. The blue sparks turned white and were hot and blinding. For the first time, they got a good look at the creature who had been attacking. His distorted form was nauseating. None of them had words to describe it.

"I'm coming back for you, Swan! And I will get you next time!"

The monster disappeared with a pained yell. The light evaporated, plunging them back into darkness for a split second. Then, there was a hum as the generator kicked on. Melody was still crouched in the floor, a trickle of blood flowing from her arm. She looked haggard and angular, her body having consumed all her fat stores.

"Repent, Mr. Swan," Melody warned him, "before it's too late. It will be much worse the next time."

And she went unconscious again.

"What's going on up here?" the nurse asked from the doorway.

Once Melody was situated back in bed and the IV lines replaced, Swan sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

"It appears I have a lot of apologies to make," he admitted, "Winslow, I'm sorry I took your music and didn't ask your permission or give you the credit you deserved. I will be correcting that as soon as I can. Phoenix, I'm sorry I deceived you. Melody, I don't know if you can here me or not, but I'm sorry I used you. All three of you have every right to hate me, as I'm not very fond of myself right now. I want to make it up to all of you."

Phoenix didn't seem to understand the depth of the trouble she was in, particularly since she'd been drugged when she'd signed her contract. Winslow, however, was still furious.

"I don't care if you _are_ immortal," Winslow announced, "I _will_ find a way if you ever hurt these two again. Or anybody else for that matter!"

Melody was now confined back to her own body, her own mind, and her own dreams.

"It's not enough, Father," she sighed, "I'm not strong enough. This body is dying. I don't know what else to do. I want to come home, but I feel like I'm not finished yet…swallowing Mr. Swan's sins has made as sinful as any human, maybe more…can you ever forgive me?"

A gentle rumble of thunder was her answer.


	10. Chapter 10

For once in his life, Swan was troubled. He sat on the white leather couch with his cigarette, watching the little tendrils of smoke wind into the air. The rain was pouring down outside. He knew he would have to go to the Paradise soon and watch his tape or the contract would be broken. For now, he was busy watching the rain drip down the windows like tears. Many things were heavy on his mind. He'd fully intended to break his word with Melody or find a way around it. In fact, he still had copies of Winslow and Phoenix's contracts. He had only burned the originals. His cowardice was due to fear—he'd had a rather unwelcome visitor last night who had warned him that he could not escape. Swan was at a loss.

Then, there had been the fight between Melody and that demon. She'd protected him. She'd remained loyal to him. She'd seen the worst of what was inside of him and still loved him. The question was what kind of love?

_You want what you can't have, _it had said, _like Swan there._

What had he meant? It had burned in the back of his mind for days. He, Winslow, and Phoenix had taken turns staying with Melody. Winslow was there right now, probably dozing in the chair next to the bed. Since that terrible night, their words to each other had been few and poor. The walls of defense had all gone back up as each feared for his or her own life and feelings. It would be his shift next and the receptionist would deal with any intruders.

The phone rang and Swan nearly jumped out of his skin. Before he could drop the cigarette, he quickly smashed it down into the ash tray and seized the receiver.

"This is Nurse Welkin at River Ridge Hospital," she said, "I wanted to inform you that Melody is awake."

"Thank you."

He seized his jacket and was out the door before his hired help could ask where he was going.

Melody slowly forced herself out of the fog. She hated this stuff, whatever it was. They told her that it would make her better, but all it did was make her very tired. Even her vision was blurry when she opened her eyes. The first thing that came into view was Winslow's silver mask. His pale blue eyes were staring down into hers, filled with concern.

"Get me out of here, Winslow," she said thickly, "I feel awful."

"I know," he said sympathetically, "and I'll take you home as soon as they say it's okay."

"Now," she begged.

She tried to sit up to show him she was all right, but her body felt as if it were made of lead. She couldn't get it to move no matter how hard she tried. With an exhausted sigh, she sank back on the pillows.

"Darn it," she sighed, her eyes welling up with frustration.

The nurse came in and took some notes on her chart.

"Do you think you can eat anything?" she asked Melody.

"I'm not hungry."

"I'll bring some food up and it'll be here if you change your mind, how about that?"

Melody sighed.

"All right."

She glanced over at Winslow.

"That's a first, isn't it? That I'm not hungry."

Winslow couldn't help but smile.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" he asked.

"Hug me. And pray for me."

He did both at the same time, praying silently in his head. He could swear he'd said more prayers in these last few days than he had in his entire life. What would life have been like if he'd met her when he was normal? What would life have been like if he hadn't met her at all?

The nurse returned with two trays on a cart. She set one of them on Melody's bed-table and one on the nearby table for Winslow.

"Are you feeling up to visitors?" she asked Melody.

"Sure," Melody mumbled.

She looked down at the plate. There were scrambled eggs, bacon, two slices of toast, a small bowl of cream-of-wheat, and juice and coffee. She recognized the coffee immediately and dumped some of the sugar into it. Winslow had a much better appetite than she did, as he'd skipped dinner completely the night before. He'd inhaled half of his plate by the time the others came in. Melody merely rearranged the food so that it looked like she'd eaten something. She took tiny sips of coffee, grateful for the inviting warmth in her stomach. It was good not to feel sick. The coffee also helped with the oppressive sleepiness.

Phoenix came in first, then Swan. Melody noticed the interaction between her and Winslow. Something had happened since that night. Both seemed carefully guarded, but there was no mistaking the hope in Winslow's eyes or body language. Her treatment of Swan had chilled considerably. Melody wondered exactly what had happened.

Swan glanced down at her tray of mostly uneaten food.

"This stuff will kill you," he muttered.

"It will?" Melody asked, puzzled.

"Not literally. But I'm sure you aren't going to gain enough weight on it for them to let you out."

"How much do I have to gain?" Melody asked.

"They said at least ten pounds."

She groaned.

"Why?! I just want to go home. I don't like this place."

"Nobody does, Love."

Melody sighed. Then, her eyes locked on the yellow roses in Swan's hands. He placed them on the table for her.

"Finally…something with color to look at," she sighed, "thanks."

Her flesh looked alarmingly pale next to the bright yellow.

"There's more coming," he told her, "about half the Paradise was at the flower shop this morning."

Melody's face colored slightly, just enough to make her look half-alive again.

"They know?"

"Word travels fast in New York," he said, pulling up a chair beside her.

Winslow was watching him carefully. Something _had_ changed. What it was, he couldn't say.

"I have to get going now," Swan said, almost reluctantly, "but I have appointments I have to keep. See you later, Melody, Winslow, Phoenix."

Her goodbye kiss on his cheek was very fleeting, as if she loathed to touch him. Melody yawned.

"I just woke up and I'm so tired…I'm sorry."

"Don't worry," Phoenix said, "just go to sleep."

Melody rolled over and closed her eyes.

"Poor thing," Phoenix remarked, "she still looks like she's a cancer patient."

"I wish I knew how to help her," Winslow said, "she talks in her sleep about how much she wants to go home. I think she means-" he pointed up.

"Maybe."

Phoenix sat down in the other chair. They were now facing each other.

"I'm sorry I ran from you that day on the roof," she told him, "I was…scared. Melody reminded me I didn't know you at all. I still don't. I never got a chance to."

"I didn't make it easy, did I?" Winslow lamented, "I let my fury at Swan get the best of me. I hurt innocent people. If it weren't for Melody, I'd still be doing it."

He rested his chin against his hand.

"Winslow?"

He glanced sideways at her.

"How did that happen?"

"How did what happen?" he asked, mechanical voice loaded with dread.

"The…um…the…" she gestured to the side of her face.

"That was my own stupid fault," he muttered, "I broke into the factory and was trashing the place when my sleeve caught on a record press. I couldn't escape fast enough."

Phoenix turned white, then gray. For a moment, he was afraid she'd faint.

"And your voice?" she asked cautiously.

He bowed his head.

"Gone."

He was startled when he saw her eyes sparkle with tears.

"You mean it's not just some crazy effect? Not part of the act?"

"Nope. If Swan hadn't given me this," he pointed to the black box, "I couldn't talk at all."

"I'm so sorry…"

Her hand rested on his. Winslow could have sworn his heart stopped beating for a moment.

"I didn't know," she said quietly, "I thought it was all an act…the face and the voice and the mask…"

His fingers squeezed hers.

"It's a miracle you survived that at all," she realized, "did Melody know you then?"

"She knew me long before I knew she existed," Winslow explained, "she was invisible. There were times I'd feel someone with me, but never very strongly. She knows all of my songs. She said she was there when I wrote them. But that night, someone else was with me, because she couldn't be. She was turned human that night. Someone really powerful was there…"

He trailed off. A cold chill overcame him.

"I swore at God and hated Him and said some really awful things that night," he said suddenly, "but He was there then, too. I should have died, but I didn't."

And there it was: the unfolding of hope like a blossoming rose. Winslow suddenly felt the burdens of fatigue, hatred, and fear lifted from his shoulders.

"All those things you did," Phoenix ventured, "you were trying to protect me, weren't you?"

"Yes, I was. I didn't go about it the right way at all," he admitted, "but I didn't want you to turn into the monster I'd become. I didn't want you going through it, being used and being hurt until there's nothing left but pain."

"There's more to you than that," she said, "I can see it. I can hear it. Melody sees it."

"Melody sees a lot of things the rest of us don't," Winslow said gently.

Melody had her back turned to them, so her expression was warm. She was smiling. It was the beginning of a friendship, the building of a bridge. If there was one good thing about having to stay in the hospital, it was this.


	11. Chapter 11

The sun was setting, casting the city in red-gold light. Winslow had gone back to the Paradise and Swan had been there for a couple of hours. Phoenix was practicing for tonight's show with Richard Philbin overseeing the production as usual. They'd worked together often enough that Swan knew he'd only call if something serious came up. He'd cleared all his appointments for the afternoon and headed to the hospital. The trouble was that Melody's heavy sleeping gave him too much time to think. Over the years, alone with his thoughts was a dangerous place to be. His gaze would fixate on one of the many gifts from well-wishers and stay locked there until something stirred him from the outside.

In addition to his yellow roses, there were pink carnations from the Juicy Fruits/Beach Bums/Undeads with a card where they'd all signed, including Phoenix. There was a single white rose from Marcy, an older janitor that Melody had befriended a couple of days back. Marcy had been dealing with alcoholism and had asked someone to send her flower on her behalf, as she was now in a rehabilitation program. There were a few daisies from the hired guards/thugs—who knew they could even put aside all that testosterone long enough to set foot in a flower shop? Though he knew he shouldn't, Swan couldn't help but read the cards.

_To Melody, _it said, _thanks for the support. I'd have never gone back to school for my GED if it weren't for you. Alex._

_Melody, this flower is nowhere nearly as beautiful as you are. I hope you get well soon and we can work onstage together again—Harold._

Swan was amused. So, Harold had noticed her, had he? He made a mental note to watch them together to see if there was more to it.

_I wanted to thank you for your friendship. I miss our duets. Phoenix._

It surprised him more than it should have. The two of them had been getting closer lately. Apparently, insecurity and jealousy had also been pushed aside out of fear.

Melody stirred. He felt, rather than saw her looking at him since he had his back turned to her.

"Where'd all this come from? It looks like a greenhouse in here," she joked sleepily.

"I told you there would be more," he said.

"A lot of people must miss me," she observed, genuine fascination in her voice, "I didn't even realize I knew so many people."

He returned to the chair beside her bed despite his aching butt.

"I wish I could see the sunset better," she lamented, "I bet it's beautiful."

She shifted her messy covers around until they were smoothed out. She felt oddly vulnerable despite the fact that she was covered up. Maybe it was the gown.

"I'm glad you're awake," he said awkwardly. She didn't look up.

"I know what you're about to ask," she answered.

"Do you?"

An uncomfortable silence followed.

"You want to know why that demon said I wanted what I couldn't have and then he said your name. You want to know why."

"Yes, I do."

She looked at him then. Her dark eyes seemed far too large for her thin, pale face.

"Does it matter?"

"I'm curious."

It was an understatement. Melody's gut tightened and the waves on the heart monitor began to jump.

"I don't know," she said truthfully, "I've felt things in the last few days I don't even have words for. I've seen how horrible humans are, especially certain ones. But I've seen so much beauty, too. Now that I am human, I can appreciate it all together. Something happened that night that you kissed me. Since then, I've been so mixed up. I swallowed up the darkness in you…not all of it, of course. I don't have that kind of power. But I drew out more than just the bad stuff. I saw your memories. I saw a lot of the good things that happened as well as the bad. It's causing a lot of trouble because nothing's clear anymore. I see _you_ and it frightens me."

"You knew what I'd done to Winslow and Phoenix and that didn't scare you. What could be worse than that?" he asked.

"It's not the terrible, awful things you did. That I could handle. That I understood. It's nothing more than a product of the fallen world. All humans are corrupt to a certain extent. There's not just good people and bad people. What scares me are the wonderful things about you. Those things turn you from a Mr. Swan I have to be very, very careful of to one I can't help but love and that makes you more of a danger to everyone around you."

She lay back on the pillows, her gaze going up to the ceiling.

"I saw the little boy who loved music so much that he hid it from his father," she began, "who kept his tapes and his written music sheets in a hollowed out tree in the woods so that his father wouldn't tear it up when he was drunk. I saw a boy who endured incredible hardship because he loved his mother too much to leave her alone with him. I saw a boy who gave up college to be with his mother as she wasted away from cancer and worked to support a father who could have cared less whether he lived or died. And then, when there was no one left in the world to hurt over, he hardened. He saw the endless medical bills and the refusal to treat his mother as that this cold world cared nothing more than making money by selling or buying things. That Mr. Swan was the one who was tempted. As he began to fear death and helplessness from being ill and getting older without leaving handprints in the world, that was when it grew to its strongest. You keep everyone at arm's length because you're desperately scared it's going to happen all over again. You think you have to get everything you can from people while they're still here."

Her eyes slid closed.

"And you fell in love…with Winslow's song. You coveted it so much because it told your story. _Like a child who was always poor, reaching out for more, I could feel the hunger growing…_That was you. And the part about in the morning light, the change was showing. That was you. All of it. The man who lies and cheats and steals his way to the top…humans can't pity a man for that. But see the backstory, the motivations, the desperations, _that's_ the one we pity."

She took a deep breath.

"Those are the ones we cry over," she said, her voice thickening, "we're told to keep an objective eye on the world and let Father sort things out. He tells us what to do and where to go and who to help. And it pains Him when they have the help at their fingertips and they choose not to take it. When someone is pulled into Hell because they don't change their ways, we cry because we hate seeing someone hurt. Father's pain is our pain and our pain is His pain. And you know what's worse? I've lost my perspective. I'm so involved now…You know I'm here and you're under my watch. I can't make your choices for you, but I feel like a failure. I'd give the world if I could just to keep you from being hurt by your own selfishness, but I can't. Same with Winslow, Phoenix, and all the others. There's almost nothing of Heaven left in me now…just a broken, incomplete human like all the rest."

She examined the IV line in her arm.

"I don't even know if I can go back now," she said, studying the tubing, "it's forbidden to fall in love with humans. It doesn't matter how I feel because I don't want to make the same mistakes my brothers and sisters made."

He didn't know what to say.

"I don't want anything," she said, "I don't expect anything. I'd rather you pretend this conversation hasn't happened. For Winslow's sake and for Phoenix's and mine and yours. Nothing can be different between us."

Never in his life could Swan remember feeling this guilty.

"Is that really what you want?" he asked quietly.

"It's what we _need_," she answered truthfully.

"All right," he said reluctantly.

She eventually fell asleep, the pained lines in her expression smoothing out and an air of peace settling over her once more. Swan's mind was filled with images that made his guilt much more impressive. He was in his late thirties or early forties at least—birthdays never meant anything to him anymore and he rarely celebrated them. Melody was physically only in her twenties and mentally still a child. He briefly allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to marry her instead of Phoenix. She'd be protected in his gigantic mansion and she'd have no end of entertainment with his assortment of musical instruments. He could take care of her easily, as she never demanded anything, not even attention. Her sheer level of purity made him disgusted with himself, though. He had once told Philbin "You know I abhor perfection in anyone other than myself." This applied to Melody as well as everyone else. Melody was far too innocent.

He usually fired anybody that got too close to him. He usually made it so he'd never have to run into them again by forbidding their entrance anywhere he'd be. But not this one. No…this one would always be close. He would take care with her and maybe she'd find someone else and be all right. Or maybe she'd get back to Heaven and shed her human desires. That would be best for all of them.

He glanced at the machines.

_Put her out of her misery,_ he thought, _you've killed before. You can do it again if you have to._

His hand stretched towards the cords, but then it stopped.

_No. Never again,_ he thought.

He sat back down, sweat beading on his forehead.

_Do it,_ the voice said, _I've gotten you this far. This little girl isn't going to do anything but cause more trouble. Besides…you're under contract._

"Not for that, I'm not," he said firmly, "do your worst to me. But you're not getting my help with her. I've destroyed her life enough as it is. It's time to do the right thing for once."

_You love her, _the voice mocked, _but you love Phoenix, too. They're nothing but pets. They're your work horses, but you are the master. Rein her in like you did with Winslow. Placate her and take her soul as well as the others._

"No."

_You will suffer for your cowardice, Swan. I swear it. You will regret it to the end of your days._

"So be it."

His corrupted, monstrous reflection in the mirror cleared up as he stared into it. The monster that was manifesting itself through his reflection was gone, replaced by the monster within. The first amount of compassion he'd shown in years and now it was being used against him, just as he'd used Winslow's crush on Phoenix against him. He'd officially gotten a taste of his own medicine. His guilt began to grow.

Phoenix appeared, startling him. He hadn't heard the door open.

"Are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost," she commented.

"Just…tired," he white-lied.

"You should go home and get some rest. It's my turn to stay with her, anyway."

"All right."

They shared a kiss. It was more reserved than usual, as they weren't sure if Melody would wake up.

"Phoenix, how much do you love me?"

She stared at him, puzzled.

"Why?"

"Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with me?"

"Yes, I do."

"And you're sure you'll be happy?"

"Yes."

He wished he could stop feeling awkward about the height difference when he hugged her.

"I'll see you later."

His distraction was obvious. Phoenix frowned, wondering what was going on. He seemed so sad all of a sudden. A sad Swan was something she'd never encountered before. She shrugged and took her place in the still-warm chair.

_He must be really stressed out, _she thought, _there has been a lot on his mind lately, what with Winslow having caused all the trouble earlier and now this._

Once at home, Swan lit a cigarette before he even stripped off his jacket. He watched his tape like he was supposed to, feeling sick inside.

_She doesn't really love me. Does she? I know I made a promise to Melody, but if she really does love me, I can't very well hurt her. Besides, getting out of these contracts…well…it just doesn't seem possible right now. What am I going to do? I miss the days when I just didn't care…life was so much simpler back then. I wish I'd never made this deal. I'd be old, sure, but I'd be safe._

He remembered the resignation in Melody's voice as she explained that she did love him but could never be with him. He remembered the absolute heartbreak as she told him how hard it was to watch someone being sent to Hell. For the first time in years, he thought of his mother who looked sixty when she was only thirty-five. He remembered her shallow breath and her bony body. He would never see her again…

For the first time in years, he pressed his face into his hands and cried.


	12. Chapter 12

_She stood in a cold, misty, gray place on the shore of a lake. The water lapped so gently that it wasn't strong enough to stop the ringing in her ears. Melody clutched her arms to her body, desperately trying to stay warm. This was no place for a flimsy hospital gown, but what choice did she have? She didn't know why she was here._

_ "Ah, there you are…" a voice said, "…your dreams are so vast that I took the scenic route. They're a little different than I expected. The humanity is starting to show here."_

_ Melody turned to see a woman cloaked in black. Her face was cast in shadow by the hood._

_ "Who are you?" she demanded of this hooded figure._

_ The woman lowered her hood. Her face was fair and beautiful, but a look of sinister malice shone in her eyes. Her lips were curved upward in a cruel smirk._

_ "My name is Lillith," she said, "I suppose you don't remember me. You're not nearly old enough."_

_ "I've heard stories," Melody answered, "but why are you in my dreams?"_

_ "Because I wanted to give you one last chance. You already know what's going to happen."_

_ "About what?"_

_ "About your delectable Swan and your pretty little ward, Winslow. They're both going to die soon, you know."_

_ "Soon to us, yes, but not to them," Melody answered._

_ "Oh, no. Sooner than you think. Swan lied to you, my pretty little angel pet. He only burned one set of contracts. You realize that there were more copies made?"_

_ Melody frowned._

_ "How would you know?"_

_ "Because you aren't the only one who follows your charge around like a shadow. I've had my eye on Swan for over twenty years."_

_ Melody's jaw dropped._

_ "It was you! You showed up in the mirror as his reflection and tricked him!"_

_ "That's right," Lillith sneered, "I'm a shape-shifter. I can take on any form I please. And there's nothing he's more in love with than himself."_

_ "So why come to me?" Melody asked, "Why tell me your plans if you're just going to kill them?"_

_ "Because, my dear, I have bigger fish to fry. Human souls come a dime a dozen and they're so laughably easy to corrupt. An angel soul, however…rare, beautiful, the ultimate prize. I wouldn't need to go to each person one by one. My aura would be cloaked in the light of goodness and it would be effortless."_

_ "You can't have either one of them," Melody said stubbornly, "I may not be very strong, but I will defend them to my last breath."_

_ "It's going to be soon if you aren't careful," Lillith said, "which is why I came to offer you a little deal. I will spare their lives if you will give up your soul for theirs."_

_ "How do I know you aren't going to cheat me?" Melody asked._

_ "You don't. Smart girl."_

_ Melody shook her head._

_ "You can take over my body all you want. You can even invade my mind once in a while," she said stubbornly, "but I'm not letting you trick any of us anymore. My Father is still more powerful than you ever will be and He'll protect us from you."_

_ "Keep wrapping yourself in that blanket of optimism until you suffocate from it," Lillith sneered, "I'm flexible. I can wait. I've waited thousands of years. You'll see. You've just made it a thousand times harder on yourself…and them…than it has to be."_

_ "I'm not scared of you."_

_ "You should be. It's only going to get worse, you know."_

_ "Get out of my dreams."_

_ "Fine. I'll leave…for now…."_

_ She vanished. _

Melody woke just as the nurse opened the door.

"Are you all right? You're sweating," the nurse remarked, concerned.

"I'm fine…just bad dreams, that's all."

Phoenix, who had slept in the chair, was beginning to stir.

"Is Swan here yet?" she asked sleepily.

"I don't know," Melody answered, "you should really go home and sleep. This isn't the best place to get any rest."

They had kept the blood pressure cuff on her arm the entire time she'd been here and were constantly checking it. Every time she would doze off, it seemed like somebody was coming in to take vital signs and the pressure of the cuff would wake her up. After several days of this, she was starting to feel grumpy all the time. She was bored in here and tired of people doing things for her all the time. She wanted to get onstage again and actually work.

"Looks a lot better," the nurse said, "if the doctor says it's all right, you might be able to go home today."

"Thank the Lord!" Melody exclaimed, "Not that you haven't all been very nice people…it's just frustrating to be stuck in bed all day and all night."

The nurse smiled.

"I understand. I'll go ask right now."

Melody glanced at her arm and winced. The tubes that she'd torn out earlier to fight the demon had left long, dark bruises in her arm. She forced down some of the lackluster hospital food to please everybody else, but wished she had a cheeseburger instead. After having burned off her fat stores, her body was craving seriously unhealthy foods.

There was a knock on the partially open door. Swan's short figure appeared there, laden down with take-out bags.

"Room service!" he joked.

"Thank goodness," Phoenix laughed.

"I was going to bring you flowers, Melody, but I thought you'd like this better."

He passed a whopping 20-ounce coffee cup into her hands.

"Wow! This is the biggest cup I've ever seen!" she exclaimed.

She took a sip, wincing when it burned her mouth. It was still a little too hot for her. Once she was able to taste it, she realized it was different than the regular coffee she drank. It was very sweet and very rich.

"Thank you," she sighed, closing her eyes as the velvet-textured liquid pooled in her stomach, "I haven't tasted anything this good since…well, ever."

The door opened again. This time, it was the band.


	13. Chapter 13

"I wish I knew where we were going," Melody said. She was sitting in the back seat of Swan's car. Swan and the driver were the only ones present—the others were waiting back at the Paradise. Melody was blindfolded, Swan having tied a plain white handkerchief over her eyes when the orderly had wheeled her outside.

"You'll see," Swan said smugly.

They hadn't spoken of "The Incident" since she'd confessed her feelings and asked him to ignore them. He was getting better at not thinking of it, but it was always there, lurking in his mind. He was, apparently, the only person who knew about Lillith as well. If Lillith had been telling the truth after all, he wondered how much time he had left to sort everything out.

For now, he shoved those thoughts away. Melody likely didn't have much time left, either. Though she was looking better now that she'd put a few pounds on, she was still more pale and fragile-looking than he would have liked. Some things she'd seen at the hospital had frightened her—she'd gone to the emergency room, slipping from their sight for only a few moments. When they'd finally found her, she was holding an old man's hand. The man had already died, but she was trying very hard to bring him back. The man was someone's grandfather, apparently, because there were sobbing children nearby. Another fiasco had been when she'd found the burn unit. She'd attempted to heal a young girl who'd been trapped in a burning house. The doctors had not understood and were trying to pry her hands away which resulted in everyone being very frustrated and upset.

"They can't know, Melody," Swan had said sympathetically as she cried outside the locked door, "they don't understand. They think people who have healing powers haven't existed since the Bible ages."

Melody had looked at him then with her huge, dark, watery eyes.

"But they do, Mr. Swan…they're everywhere. The people of this world just don't see it. They don't want to."

She'd retreated to her bed for the rest of her stay, not that she had much choice. A burly orderly patrolled the halls and a few of the annoyed nurses had threatened her with a stay in the psych ward, which had made her fall apart all over again. It hadn't been easy for any of them.

"All right," Swan said when the car stopped, "come toward my voice."

She stumbled a little bit, so he took her by one arm and guided her inside. He tugged the blindfold off—they didn't need it anymore.

"Good to be home," Melody sighed, "but wait…where the heck is everybody? I thought Winslow and Phoenix were going to come with you."

"They'll turn up eventually," he assured her, "but first, let's go check up on the band. I hope they haven't had too many laughs at my expense while I was gone today."

He opened the door and let her in first.

"Why's it so dark?" Melody asked, "I can't see a thing!"

"Lights!" Swan called.

They switched on. Melody let out a gasp. The room was filled with people, not just the band members, the dancers, or singers. Everyone that worked here was assembled in the theater, crowding it. Behind them on the stage, there was a huge banner that read: "WELCOME HOME MELODY!"

"I didn't even realize I knew this many people," she told Swan, "but where's Winslow?"

Swan leaned in where he could talk in her ear.

"He said he would meet you up on the roof later," he whispered, "as you might have guessed, crowds aren't really his thing. Not to mention all the trouble he'd caused before you got here…"

Melody nodded grimly. Winslow was very agile, very fast, and very strong, but there was only so much he'd be able to do if the crowd turned on him.

"Will they ever forgive him?"

"Maybe, maybe not. Don't worry about him. I'm sure he's lurking around here somewhere," Swan said dismissively, "in the meantime, enjoy it. This little get-together is for you."

They lifted her up on the stage. The biggest cake that Melody had ever seen was there—it was nearly as tall as she was. Each layer was a different flavor. Hers was chocolate marble. A few people were handing out alcoholic drinks, but Melody declined in favor of a soda. She was giddy in no time from the sugar rush, though she still felt bad about Winslow.

"Hey, Harold," Melody called to him, "I never got a chance to say, but thank you for all the flowers you sent."

His face flushed slightly.

"You're welcome," he said warmly, "I hope you're well enough to sing again. Rehearsals are more fun when you're around."

This comment was not lost on Swan. He had been talking to Philbin. He turned around to watch them.

"Think something's going on there?" Philbin seemed to read his thoughts.

"Too early to tell yet," he answered, taking a big drag on his cigarette, "but it's possible."

Up in the rafters, Winslow watched from his usual perch. Phoenix was across the room from Swan, but he kept noticing her gaze going back to him. Part of him wanted to yell in frustration, but he didn't. He saw something else, however, that made him smile. Harold was sticking pretty close to where Melody sat—he seemed to be revolving around her as if she had a gravity pull. While he did talk to others, his gaze would still fixate on her. Winslow knew exactly what he was feeling because his body language gave him away.

_Good luck,_ he thought.

Then, something happened that he didn't expect. Phoenix seemed to be scanning the room. She wasn't looking at the crowd, but at the walls and the ceiling. She seemed to know he was around here somewhere. Swan said something to snap her out of her thoughts, but it was one moment that Winslow didn't realize he'd ever see. She had actually been looking for him. He registered no fear or anger on her face, only curiosity. The tiniest spark of warmth lit his darkened heart.

He didn't stay much longer. Even up here in the rafters, the sheer amount of people nearby was making him claustrophobic. It was uncomfortably warm here and he was ready to go. He cast one last longing look at Phoenix and made his way up to the roof. He'd spent so much time up here that it felt like home. He thought of his old apartment—someone had probably already moved in there since he was listed as "deceased". It seemed fitting that a rooftop would feel like home, as his metallic mask resembled a bird's head. It was awfully cold up here, but it was refreshing. The leather costume he'd claimed since his arrival here and the mask all held in his body heat well enough that he never needed a coat. He settled against the roof entrance, content to wait there until Melody showed up.

Down below, he realized for the first time, that the city was dressing itself for Christmas. The colored lights and cheesy holiday decorations were starting to show up. Children were crowding each other around different shop windows, trying to see the bright displays. A faint smile lit his features. He could never go down there again, never truly be a part of the crowd. He had felt terribly awkward being out with Melody and Swan, but knew it wasn't just because Swan was there. It was because he'd felt so cut off from everyone. Maybe Phoenix was right…maybe Winslow Leach truly was dead and all that was left was the Phantom.

"Sorry about that…I had a hard time escaping," Melody said, crouching beside him, "everyone was asking all these questions about what happened to me. There were rumors going on that I have some kind of eating disorder…I told them no, I eat better and more than I probably should. So weird…anyway, I saved you some cake."

She handed him the small paper plate.

"Mr. Swan's being a pain right now," she lamented, "he's being so overprotective. He thinks if I do anything for myself that I'll get hurt or die. I had to wait on somebody to distract him before I got up here. He knew I was going to come anyway. I can't think of anyone that takes better care of me than you."

Winslow devoured the slice of strawberry cake, glad at least she wasn't asking him why he didn't come.

"I missed you."

He swallowed, thinking she was going to ask The Question, but she didn't. She merely rested her head on his shoulder.

"I like it better up here," she sighed, "I missed seeing the sky, even if it does look like it's going to rain."

"Looks more like snow," he informed her, "see? The clouds are all wispy. It's not dark the way rain is."

"There's a lot of Christmas stuff down there," she said, "everyone looks so happy. You should see Christmas in Heaven. It's…wonderful."

Her throat constricted as she said it, as even now, her memories were very blurred. She couldn't remember exactly what her first Christmas had been like. In fact, she barely remembered it at all.

Winslow looked over at her, concern obvious in his expressive eyes. Her mouth twisted and a tear glittered on her cheek.

"Sorry," she choked out, "it's just that…I can't remember anything anymore. Christmas was an even bigger deal in Heaven than it is down here…how could I forget it? I'm forgetting everything…"

The tears kept flowing though she tried desperately to stem them.

"I see all these Jesus figures around," she told him, "and I've seen the real one. He's different than them, but I can't even remember what he looks like or sounds like. I can't remember Father, either. I can't remember what Heaven looks like or what happened up there…it's all fading…"

Winslow was so shocked at the sudden turn of mood that he didn't know what to say to comfort her. The best he could do was embrace her and let the tears come. Eventually, she calmed down.

""There are some things I really hate about being human," she announced, "and this has got to be one of them."

"Angels don't cry?" he asked.

"We do, but it's a little different. We don't have icky stuff coming out of our faces."

She blew her noise into Swan's handkerchief that he'd tied around her eyes earlier and vowed to wash it thoroughly before she gave it back.

"I wish I could stop being sad all the time," she sighed, "I shouldn't be. I have so many things to be thankful for. Not many guardians get to live life alongside the people they watch over. I mean _truly_ live. I regret disobeying Father, I really do. But I'm glad I stayed."

"So am I."

He had been quickly losing his humanity under the guise of the Phantom. He had been so obsessed with getting Phoenix to sing his songs that he'd been unable to think of anything else, even the lives lost at his hands. Melody had restored that part of him.

A little white flake floated on the breeze. Melody snatched it out of midair and held it in her palm. It lingered there for a moment, then melted away. Winslow glanced up as the snowfall started to increase.

"Look! Snow! Oh, you were right!"

She rose and started spinning around in it, pink tongue out to catch the flakes. Shrieking and giggling like the little girl that she was in her heart, she danced around like it was the biggest miracle of her life.

"Dance with me!" she demanded.

He did.

When Phoenix arrived on the roof, she found Melody and Winslow spinning together, both hands held. His odd electronic laugh only added to the situation—she'd never heard him laugh.

"Faster!" Melody demanded.

"Can't! I'm too dizzy!"

He staggered backwards, desperately trying to find purchase on the wall. He dropped with a thud back to the surface of the roof, his birdlike helmet knocked askew in a comical way. Some of the scarring from the press was visible for a split second. Melody landed across from him, clutching her head.

"Oh….why does the world feel like it's moving?" she asked dizzily. It took her a second to see Phoenix clearly.

"I came to make sure you were all right up here," Phoenix commented, "you've been gone a long time."

"I'm fine…" Melody said, trying to shake the feeling that the roof was going to sling her off the edge.

"I see you've been celebrating the first snow this year," Phoenix remarked. She glanced over at Winslow, who self-consciously adjusted his helmet. He turned very red beneath it, wondering how much she'd seen. The sparkle in his eye was something she remembered a very long time ago, the time she'd seen at the first audition.

"And looking at Christmas decorations," he added, "we have a perfect view from up here."

Phoenix looked over the edge. At first, it made her sick and dizzy. Then, as she reassured herself she wouldn't fall, she began to see it. The things that seemed so mundane from on the ground were transformed. It was beautiful up here.

"Yes, you do. I can see why you two spend so much time up here."

He stood beside her. For a moment, it felt like they were holding hands though they weren't. Melody was quiet, wishing with all her might that something special would happen.

"You should come up here more often," Winslow said, extending permission into the one place that Swan hadn't managed to invade. He'd successfully disabled all the cameras up here and Swan hadn't gotten around to fixing them yet.

"I will," she said quietly.

Melody saw a soft glow between them, heard the soft tinkling of a music box tune. Neither Winslow or Phoenix saw or heard these things, but they felt it.

"I should be getting back downstairs," Phoenix said, "they'll come looking for me."

"See you later."

She left a transfixed Winslow in her wake. He turned to look at Melody, who was pretending to be fascinated with the swirling snowflakes. Both of them knew he wasn't fooled by her innocent act.

"She's not afraid anymore," Winslow announced.

"No, she's not," Melody agreed.


	14. Chapter 14

_"Show me, Mr. Swan…show me what they all talk about backstage," she whispered in his ear, "you probably know more about it than anyone."_

_ Her ivory skin was flushed under his hands, warming to his touch. His stomach quivered with the idea of claiming her virgin flesh as his own. His heart began to pound just as his lips descended on hers._

Swan woke up in a cold sweat. The first thing that managed to penetrate the haze of raging hormones was absolute horror. His cheeks were blazing hot with shame though there was no one around, and they could not read his mind if they were. At first, the woman that consumed his lecherous thoughts had been Phoenix. There was nothing inherently wrong with that in his mind—they were already together and they were going to be married. But then, she'd transformed into Melody. The worst part was that he'd gotten more excited. He felt a crushing sense of guilt—to him, having such an attraction to Melody was as bad, if not worse, than wanting a child. He'd never found out whether or not she'd discovered that part of being human and he wasn't going to ask. Knowing he'd never get back to sleep with that image in his head, he stripped off his damp pajamas and stomped into the bathroom. With more force than necessary, he hurled the wadded bedclothes at the basket. His glasses were still in the bedroom, so his vision was dimmed. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirrors.

"I hate you sometimes," he snapped at it, "I really do!"

It was an honest assessment. Without the brightly colored clothes, the rich smirk, the expensive surroundings and the like, he was just a small, vulnerable man with an enormous ego.

"How can you possibly hate me? You've got more than you've ever wanted," his reflection replied back, "you still look as good as you did all those years ago, you have money, you have power, and you have all the girls in New York at your feet. You've duped more people into signing contracts than I ever did. You should be impressed with yourself."

Swan glared back at the reflection, which was posing in a ridiculous way. It was if he was posing for a photo shoot.

"Let me guess, 'Goliath'," it said, "it's not all it's cracked up to be?"

Swan rubbed his forehead irritably.

"What is it? Oh, wait…I know! It's the angel, isn't it? You want her…"

The reflection smiled coyly. Swan was getting more annoyed by the second.

"No, I don't. I want out. To Hell with all this."

The reflection laughed evilly.

"You're forgetting, Swan, you sold your soul to me. You traded it for all this. You've gotten everything you wanted. It's too late for you to get out."

"Fine. If I can't get out, I can at least get Winslow and Phoenix out."

"No, you can't. They're bound to you, Swan. And they're bound to me, too. It doesn't matter what you do—they're my property now. And soon, Melody will be, too."

"You leave that girl alone!" Swan yelled, "I mean it! I don't care what I have to do to keep you away from her!"

The reflection laughed again.

"Can you actually stop me? I'd like to see you try. Oh, Paul William Swan, whatever happened to you? You used to be so ruthless, so hard on others. I think you're getting soft."

Swan's eyes narrowed.

"Get out of my sight. I despise you."

"Fine," his reflection answered, "I'll go, but remember, I gave you your power. I can just as easily take it away."

The reflection stopped moving as Swan stared. Cautiously, he raised one hand and touched the mirror. His reflection did exactly the same thing. He made several gestures, making sure that it was only his reflection. Only then did he realize the tub was about to overflow and quickly turned off the water. He sank into the steaming tub and only then did he let the tears flow. He didn't know how to escape all this. Submerging completely, he wished he could rise out of the water and come up in a different world.

Winslow smiled to himself as his fingers danced across the keys. At last, he was nearly finished. The stack of music had grown huge on top of the keyboard. This time, he vowed, he was not going to let anything happen to it. The series of taps on the door woke him from his buzz—he recognized it as Melody's signal. He rose from the chair and unlocked the door.

"Sounded good from out here," she told him, "here's your breakfast. I seriously gotta learn to cook—it's pouring out there!"

"Thank you," he said gratefully, feeling guilty that he always asked her to go get the food. She could get in and out of the stores without having to worry about being accused of robbing the place. She understood, though, and she enjoyed the daily walk.

"Catch!" She tossed him a wrapped sausage biscuit. He snatched it out of midair, grinning.

"How's the music coming?" she asked, handing him a cup of coffee.

"Almost there," he answered, "and Swan is NOT getting this copy."

They tapped their cups together in a toast.

"I can't believe I've only been here a couple of weeks," Melody remarked, "it feels like I've been living in the Paradise forever."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Winslow asked.

"I wouldn't trade it for anything," Melody said honestly, "it's going to be strange waking up without you there."

His expressive blue eyes caught her dark green-brown ones. It was funny how she could barely see his face at all with the mask on, yet those eyes told her everything.

"How much longer do you have?" he asked quietly.

"A little," she answered, "I might make it until Christmas, but my organs are shutting down. I can feel it. They'll go one by one until my heart stops. But let's not talk about that. I want to hear what you worked on while I was gone."

She settled into the nest of blankets. Winslow, now in a very somber mood, started to play for her. Just as he got to the singing part, he stopped.

"You should sing it," he told her, "it won't sound right with this mechanical voice."

Melody came to stand beside him and turn the page. Her high, clear soprano flowed through the room. The effect, as always, was immediate. Winslow felt his exhaustion and heartache fading away, replaced with a cautious hope. Even the words seemed to fit at the end:

"Our love is a strong love, baby,

we give it all and still receive,

and so with empty arms we must still believe

all souls last forever

so we need never fear goodbye,

A kiss when I must go

no tears…

in time….

we kiss hello….again."

Melody glanced over at Winslow and saw, for the briefest second, a glittering tear hit the keyboard.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He looked up at her with wet eyes. She placed a hand on his back as he quickly tried to recompose himself.

"Just because my body's going away doesn't mean I won't be with you," she explained to him, "you'll know I'm there now. You'll hear me singing in the wind. You'll feel my touch when the sunlight warms your face. You'll see me each time you see a bright rainbow or a sunset with colors you can't even name. And you can still talk to me anytime you want."

"You're right," he sighed, "I'm just being selfish."

"No, you aren't. You're being human."

She hugged him to her. Despite the helmet, he could hear her heartbeat. It already sounded a little bit off: instead of the normal thumpTHUMP rhythm, he would hear something skip periodically. Other times, it would beat very hard three or four times in a row.

"When I found you…well, when we found each other," Melody said, "I was really worried about you. All these shadows that came into your life almost stole your light away. You were very nearly lost in the Phantom. Now, you're Winslow again. It may hurt for a while, but you'll get by. You're so much stronger than the pain. And Mr. Swan is, too, though he doesn't realize it. He shouldn't tell God how big his problem is—he should tell his problem how big God is."

Winslow nodded.

While they were still upstairs finishing breakfast, a very agitated Swan was on his way to the Paradise. Rather than Philbin or any other assistant driving him, Swan decided to go alone today. He was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were taut and white. He needed this, though. Having something solid in his hands assured him that there was still something in this life to hold onto. Though he didn't truly know how much trouble he was in, he was starting to catch glimpses of it. And worse, the images of Melody from his dream were still etched into his brain. As he got more distracted, things outside were getting worse. He nearly rear-ended another car who stopped suddenly and went into a swearing fit. By the time he reached the Paradise, he was sweating and shaking with fury. His heart was thundering and there were bright red patches on his cheeks that nearly matched his trademark glasses.

"Rough day?" Philbin asked, not used to seeing him appear so disheveled.

"Don't ask," Swan muttered, gratefully accepting a cigarette from him. He took a deep drag and hoped this splitting headache would subside along with his elevated blood pressure. A ruckus from outside caught their attention, however, and they both went to investigate. There appeared to be a fight going on and the stupid reporters were snapping pictures left and right. Swan shielded his face as best as he could while his hired goons continued to beat on someone in their midst.

"Break it up right now! What in the Hell is going on here?!" Swan snarled.

"This old geezer was trying to get in," the bigger of the thugs answered, "I think he's just senile. I can't understand a thing he says."

Swan, for some reason, grew outraged all over again.

"Well, he can't talk very well with your fist in his mouth, now can he? Back up."

They both stared at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"Back up, dammit!"

They did, shocked that they would be getting in trouble for doing their jobs. Swan bent over the old man, who was now laying bloodied on the pavement. Blood streamed out of his mouth and his breath was shallow with pain. He saw Swan and wheezed anxiously, mouthing something. Swan, unfortunately, could not lip-read very well. He eased the poor old guy into a sitting position, trying not to let his face twist up. The old man smelled like he hadn't washed in weeks and his clothes were dingy and torn. At one time, the cloth might have been different colors, but everything was the same dirty gray. One eye was swollen shut and the other had an obvious cataract. Beneath the shabby outfit was a very skeletal-looking body.

"Can you stand up?" Swan asked. The old guy struggled, but he made it to his feet. He had to grab Swan for support, however, because he swayed dangerously. Philbin frowned, not sure what to make of this.

"Do you know this guy?" one of the thugs asked. Swan ignored him and half-dragged, half-carried the old guy to the door.

"Come on," he sighed, straightening him up again for the third time. Once he managed to get him inside away from the camera flashes and the scandalized whispers, he eased the guy into a chair and took out a white handkerchief with the Death Records logo on it. He was in the process of cleaning off the blood when Margaret, the receptionist, came in.

"Who's that?" she asked, stunned.

"I haven't found out yet," Swan replied, "but you should tell your boyfriend not to get this overzealous again or I'm going to fire him."

Margaret turned on her heel and went for the door.

"Thank you," the old man slurred around his wounds.

"What were you doing out there, anyway?" Swan asked.

The old man shrugged.

"I heard the most beautiful music…I wanted to get a closer look. I wasn't doing nothing, I swear…I just wanted to hear more. I can't see too good and I bumped into one of those men standing outside the gate. The next thing I knew, they were both on top of me."

The old guy's eyes glittered with frightened tears.

"Please don't send me to jail, Mister…I done been in there once this year. I'm an old geezer…I don't want to spend my final days getting the snot beat out of me where I can't hear the birds sing or see the sky. It's so big it's the only thing I see real good. I don't mean to be in the way."

His voice cracked at the end. Swan got a very odd feeling in his gut. Were people truly this afraid of him?

"Have you got a name?" he asked awkwardly.

"It's Bill. Just Bill…I never knew my parents, so I don't have a last one."

"Well, 'Just Bill', how long has it been since you've had a bath? Or a hot meal?"

He frowned.

"Well…some dark-haired girl bought me a hamburger three days ago. Never caught her name…sings like an angel, though. The bath thing…well, I reckon it was whenever it rained last."

"I see. And where do you live?"

"Wherever I can get in out of the cold…though that don't always work. I slept under that bridge a couple of times."

He frowned.

"Just out of curiosity, why the curiosity?" Bill asked.

"I can't contact you if you're living in alleys or under bridges. I need an address on file. As of right now, this is your new home."

Bill stared.

"What?"

"You're hired."

"I'm what? Hired? To do what, exactly, Mister?"

"We'll find something for you to do."

"Aww….but….are you sure? I mean, I know I don't smell like a basket of roses right now."

Bill was in shock.

"That's easy enough to fix. Now, stay here. I'll be right back."

Philbin had just walked in the door, about to ask what was going on. Swan addressed him next.

"Make sure everyone knows he has permission to be here," he told Philbin, "he's only got so much face left."

Philbin stared, open-mouthed, after Swan, who was disappearing into the elevator.


	15. Chapter 15

Lillith watched Swan from afar. Fury was growing as well as impatience. Not only had he refused to give in, he was now helping some old guy. She knew she would have to step up her game or lose out. She lurked in the Paradise, invisible the way a parasite inside a body would be.

"That's right, Swan, clear your conscience," she mumbled, "but you know that saving one man isn't going to get your god to forgive you."

Swan went into the security room. So far, Melody wasn't on any of the screens which meant she was either still in the hidden room with Winslow or on the roof. Fortunately, he knew where it was. The odd thing was that he didn't feel comfortable going down there after her. Despite knowing Winslow's exact location since he'd moved in here, he'd never quite conjured up the backbone to drag him out of hiding. He told himself it wouldn't matter, that Melody would surface eventually. He'd lit another cigarette and inhaled deeply. Unknowing that Lillith was right behind him, he let his head rest on the back of the chair for a moment and his eyes closed.

Lillith took advantage of this vulnerable moment easily. Mentally and physically, his guard was down. She merged into him, slipping inside as easily as one does to a pair of comfortable old pajamas. His warmth embraced her. It was only for a fraction of a second that he knew she was there and fought—she now had control. The first thing she did was activate the calming area of his brain.

_Shhhh….rest now, my darling. I'll take it from here._

On the surface, the only signs that he was resisting at all were his white knuckles as they gripped the arms of the chair very hard. The rest of his body was immobile. He sat like that for several minutes before his eyes opened again.

"I sent that Bill guy to take a shower," Philbin said, entering the room, "I know you told him to stay put, but Margaret nearly lost her breakfast. So did I for that matter."

He came to sit beside Swan. Swan turned to look at him.

"I was going to do that anyway. Melody hasn't come down yet."

Philbin tried not to stare. There was something….different…about his boss. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Swan looked exactly the same as he did every other day, but something in his eyes was off. There was an odd coldness there, which was strange. Usually, Swan's trademark was being able to make people trust him no matter how unethical his motives were.

"Ah, I see. She's going to do that white light thing to him, isn't she?"

"If she has the power to spare."

"Where's Phoenix? I figured she'd be here by now."

Swan shrugged.

"She never shows up until the last minute."

"Aren't you going to do something about that?"

"Eventually."

"I mean, I know you two are a thing, but it seems a little disrespectful."

Swan flicked a few ashes into the cigarette tray.

"She knows what to do. It's Harold and the others that need constant practice. Leave them alone for five minutes and they think they're still in middle school."

Philbin wondered how Swan could go from being so irritable to this cool. Either those cigarettes weren't simply cigarettes or something else had happened in the few minutes it took him to get up here. He almost asked about it, but then decided to keep quiet.

"I've been thinking about this whole incident with Beef," Swan thought out loud, "and I think I've decided our next move. As far as the public is concerned, that was just part of the show, right? What if we improved on it a bit?"

Philbin stared.

"I'm afraid I don't follow," he said.

"You've been with me for nearly ten years now, Philbin. You know a little bit of my power. You know I'm not an ordinary man. So I'll let you in on this little secret. If our numbers increased so much with Beef, the one-hit-wonder, imagine what they would do for my darling Phoenix."

Philbin stared.

"No way! You're going to….eighty-six her?"

Swan smirked.

"But….but…"

"Oh, don't worry. I can bring her back. I have…connections. She'll wake right up afterwards. Think of it, Philbin…every New Yorker who doesn't get into the Paradise can see it on their TV's. It's the ultimate entertainment."

Philbin started to feel very uncomfortable. Whether it was from what Swan was suggesting or from the greasy burrito that passed as breakfast, he could not say.

"Um…all right, but what about your little 'problem'?"

"Oh, that! I'm going to have a mask on. We'll make the whole last section of Faust look like a giant masquerade party. That way no one thinks anything of it."

"How are they going to shoot you with no mask?"

"They can't, you fool."

An uncomfortable pause followed.

"And…in exchange for all these years of loyal service, you can be the priest."

"Wow…I've never been a priest before."

"There's a first time for everything. Oh, by the way….a little surprise for you."

He retrieved this morning's newspaper from a nearby table. Philbin's jaw dropped at the sight of the headline:

**Singer Annette Lee Found Dead In Hotel Room: Cause of death unknown.**

"Dead? Annette is….dead?"

Swan heard the catch in his voice.

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"No! I mean, I wanted you to break her, but not like this…"

Swan folded his hands in his lap.

"I didn't have her killed. She did it to herself. You might say it was just an unfortunate side effect."

Philbin gulped audibly.

"There will be others, Philbin."

"But not like her…" he choked out.

He made a hasty exit from the room and Swan let him go. He'd seen the tears sparkle in his eyes already. Philbin probably wanted some time alone. He probably would be smashed before the day was half-over.

Melody appeared on the screen and Swan's lips curved into a smile. One finger stroked the screen delicately.

"Let's see you sing your way out of this one," he chuckled.

_GET OUT!_ The real Swan screamed in the back of his head.

_It's too late for that, Swan…we are one. There is no more Swan or Lillith…there is only me. _

"Hold still, Bill," Melody told him, "and close your eyes just for a minute. This might feel a little weird, but trust me."

She placed her hands on his head and sang out her note. The light was reluctant to come, but it did. She pulled away the cloud of smoke and blew on it. Bill opened his eyes just as it disintegrated.

"Holy cow! I can see again! I haven't seen this good since I was a young man about your age!" he exclaimed. He suddenly went silent as his eyes locked on Winslow's.

"This is my friend, Winslow," Melody introduced him, "Winslow, this is Bill. Mr. Swan saved him from the mean guys out front."

Having not met a single new person since The Incident, Winslow froze like a deer in the headlights. Bill extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Winslow. This girl has told me a lot of wonderful things about you…I wasn't sure we'd ever meet."

Winslow grasped his hand. Bill could feel the tremors there.

"He's a little shy," Melody said, "but I'm sure the two of you will get along really well. Winslow, if you'll find him a room, I have to go see what Mr. Swan wants. He called me on the intercom while we were getting Bill his new clothes from the costume storage."

They had looked through all the outfits. It had taken ages to find Bill some normal-looking clothes, as Swan had very eccentric tastes for his performers, but they eventually found some nice dark dress pants and a white collared shirt. He was now clean-shaven, bathed, and Melody had given his hair a quick trim. The difference was impressive.

"All right…see you in a few hours," Winslow said reluctantly. They watched the door close behind her.

"Funny how it works, isn't it? She was crossing through the park to get here," Bill told Winslow, "and I thought I was dyin'. My head hurt, my stomach hurt, and I was just too weak to move. I prayed to God I'd either find food or I'd go quick. The next thing I knew, she was standing over me, smiling. The sun was right behind her, giving her this glow…like an angel. She said she could hear my stomach growling all the way from over there," he pointed, "and said she'd be happy to share her lunch with me on one condition."

"What?"

"I had to tell her a story. So she waited until I ate my hamburger, then I told her about my younger days when I still had a wife and kids. She laughed so hard I thought she was going to plumb burst at the seams!"

Winslow smiled a true smile then.

"The Lord was watching out over me these last few days," Bill sighed contentedly, "I was about to give up and He told me don't."

Melody found Swan in his usual place in the box. She was somewhat taken aback when she saw him give Phoenix a very furious kiss.

_I thought they were going to break up…what happened?_

Deep down, she knew he'd been lying about that. Just to make her feel better, he'd saved his affections for Phoenix for when he thought she wasn't looking. She'd let it go. She'd never brought up the deal they'd made when she'd gotten so sick that night, but now, she was getting angry. Why couldn't he stick to his word for once?!

"AHEM!" she coughed loudly. The two sprang apart. Phoenix, sensing a storm was coming, made herself scarce though she was sure she hadn't done anything to warrant it.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Swan?" There was no mistaking the bite in her voice.

"I was going to ask you to patch Bill up, but I saw from the cameras that you took care of him already," Swan answered.

"Oh…well, if there's nothing else, I'm just-"

"Sit down."

Melody sat, wanting nothing more than to forget what she'd just seen.

"I saw that look. You think I've backed out, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," she said bluntly, "you promised me. You _promised._ You weren't going to let her go, were you?"

"Yes, I am. Tonight. Then Winslow can have her for the rest of his life. But I need her right now."

She stared hard into his face.

"I don't believe you."

"What's to believe? You've trusted me to this point."

"And I'm beginning to wonder if I've made a mistake."

"You want the truth, Melody? I'm not letting Phoenix go for any other reason than to make you happy. You know why? From the time you've arrived here, you've turned my life upside down more than Winslow ever could. You've been inside my head far too many thoughts to count. You won't let me rest. I want to do something about it."

Melody stared, confused.

"We're going to finish Faust tonight. But you're the one I want to marry."

"Mr. Swan, I already told you I can't do that. I'm going to die. Soon. I haven't told anyone yet, but my heart rhythm's off. One of my kidneys is barely working and the other one's not far behind it. I have a couple of days left to live at most. Don't you remember?"

"If you've only got a couple of days, you may as well be happy and enjoy being a human as much as you can. And I know you want me. I hear your songs that you play when you think no one's around, not even Winslow. Even if I can't see you on the cameras, I still pick it up."

A tear dripped down Melody's cheek.

"You don't know what you're asking," she choked out, "you're asking for a lifetime of something I can't give you. And the worst is yet to come…I'm going to die, Mr. Swan. And if you don't stop being greedy, I'll have died in vain. Let Phoenix go. Let her be happy. Don't keep pretending…and as for me, well, the reason humans are in dire straits right now is because they always want more. I sensed it. I smell it on you…it's not real, Mr. Swan. You have to fight it. You have to face the very thing you're afraid of, or you'll die as well. I know where I'm going and I know where you're going…it's going to be an eternal nightmare for you. My Father will still forgive you if you ask for it. That's more than I can ever give you."

She backed away, and knocked a glass on a nearby table over on accident. For a moment, both of them stared at the sharp shards in the floor. Though the light was dim, they still glittered sinisterly.

"See this?" Melody asked, picking a handful of them up, "This is your fear, your pain, your anxiety. You're scared to death you're going to end up alone. You won't truly let anyone in…you keep them at arms length as pawns, but you're terrified of losing them deep down. And so you hold that pain closer and closer."

She squeezed her hand down. He opened his mouth to protest, but it was too late. Blood spurted from between her fingers.

"And it cuts and cuts until there's nothing left," she continued, only wincing slightly. Unknown to her, Philbin had entered the box right behind her.

"You have to be willing to let go of it," she told him, "only when you truly surrender all that pain and all that fear and let Father take it from you will you ever get better."

She opened her hand and both Philbin and Swan stared in shock. There was no blood on her skin. The pieces of pale clear glass had somehow become colored. She placed them on the table and began to rearrange them.

"You're both broken men, very broken men," she said, "so is Winslow and Bill and everyone else around here. But it's not perfection that God's looking for. It's a willingness to work with what you've got. A perfect pane of glass is ordinary and most people take it for granted. But broken pieces of glass, stained, imperfect…these are the ones that become beautiful."

She swept her hand over the shards and they fused together. Then, she held the newly formed mosaic up to the light. A portrait of Jesus was there, arms raised and smiling at Heaven.

"These are the ones that have stories to tell and that everyone looks up to," she told them, "so whatever happens tonight, remember that."


	16. Chapter 16

Melody threw herself into practice. Despite not feeling well at all, she did not let herself give less than a hundred percent. When someone said she was too pale and gray looking, she insisted that it was nothing and denied that anything was wrong. She desperately wanted to go talk to Winslow as she began to realize that something serious was going on, but Swan seemed to know that and intercepted her at every turn. Eventually, Winslow caught onto this and started making an effort to come to her. The trouble was that Swan seemed to be _everywhere _today. He eventually slipped into the dressing room Melody used, broke the camera, and hid under the table for a while. When Melody finally came back there for a break, he emerged from hiding. She clutched her chest and leaned against the now-locked door.

"Don't do that! You almost gave me a heart attack…I do mean literally…" she gasped.

"What's going on?" Winslow demanded.

"You feel that, too, don't you?" Melody asked, "That something's really, really wrong."

He nodded.

"I heard you talking to Swan in the box. Something about not needing Phoenix anymore."

"Something's…off. I don't think he's acting entirely out of his own influence," Melody confessed, "his aura's too dark. I've never seen it that dark before. Whatever's happening, he's got some help from the dark side."

Winslow felt like he was going to vomit. Of course…

"I can't get upstairs to see what's going on," Melody told him, "our only chance is to get into the security room…I can't get away, though, because he knows I suspect him. You'll have to do it."

"What if he catches me?" Winslow asked.

"What if he does? He can't kill you without killing himself first," Melody reminded him, "isn't that the way the contract went?"

"What about Phoenix? He'll use her to blackmail me. He's been doing it since I signed the stupid thing."

The two of them sat in urgent silence for a while.

"Okay…let's think this over," Melody said, "he's planning something big tonight. He can't get rid of you because you're tied together. He can't get me because I've been healing him. That only leaves Phoenix. I'd say we're going to risk something either way. The only way we can help her is to find out what he's up to and hopefully intercept him. Things show up on film all the time that human eyes don't catch—if you can watch the tapes, maybe we can figure out which demon is helping him and maybe even whether he's possessed or not. I can exorcise him, but I'd need reinforcements, as I'm getting weaker by the second. If we pull this off, nobody loses their life."

"You really think he's going to kill her?" Winslow asked, eyes narrowing in anger.

"He didn't say that, no, but…look, he tells her he's going to marry her. Then he tells me he's going to marry me. He can't have us both. I'm assuming the worst at this point."

Winslow was furious and scared all at once.

"Don't let your temper get the best of you," she warned him, "if you truly want to get out of this alive, you have to keep your head. Whatever happens, let me deal with Swan, okay? I want you get Phoenix and I want you to get out of here tonight. This is the only chance we're going to get."

He noticed that her childlike speech had disappeared. She now looked much older than her years. There were bags and dark circles under her eyes. Her skin had taken on a sickly pale yellow hue tinged with gray. She was getting that withered look again, the same one she'd had at the hospital.

"We're going to have to do it quick," she lamented, one hand suddenly clenching her side in pain, "one of my kidneys just quit."

"How can you tell?"

"I just can…." she sighed, "….I was hoping I'd have a few more days, but I don't get to choose."

He hugged her tightly. There was a knock at the door.

"Melody? Are you all right in there?" It was Swan's voice. Winslow resisted the urge to curse under his breath.

"Hide," she mouthed. He disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.

"Sorry…lost track of time," she said guiltily, unlocking the door for Swan, "I know we're on a tight schedule."

"You're not sick again, are you?" he asked, feigning concern.

"No…"

It technically wasn't a lie considering that she was dying and not merely ill.

"Why don't you come stay with me after the show," he suggested, "instead of here…somewhere warm. It gets awfully cold at night."

"I'll think about it."

Melody forced a smile.

"What's the matter?" he asked, picking up on her anxiety.

"Nothing…"

She avoided his near-accusation by hurrying back onto the stage. Unfortunately, she tripped over something in her haste and went down face-first. Harold helped her up.

"You all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth. The truth was that her knees hurt from where they'd hit the stage.

"You seem pretty stressed," he said, still holding onto her, "wanna get a late dinner with me after the show?"

"I would, but I'm leaving town for a few days," she said evasively, "if it were any other time, I'd be very happy to. I'm going to see my Father."

"All right…I understand. I'll wait."

_You'll be waiting a long time,_ she thought brokenly. It wasn't until now that she truly allowed herself to appreciate Harold the way a woman would appreciate a man. He was friendly, nice, and had a wonderful smile, but now she began to see more than that. His dark eyes sparked brilliantly and he always looked handsome no matter what flamboyant costumes Swan dressed him in. He had a good nature about the whole thing, too—she'd never heard him complain. Too late, she wished she'd gotten to know him better. There was no demonic force at work in him, no battle for his soul. The few moments she'd spent with him were a taste of what being a normal human could have been.

"Lunch, maybe?" he suggested.

Melody smiled.

"All right."

They ran through the songs one more time. Melody waited for Swan to try and steal her away, but he didn't seem to care about her going with Harold. It probably wouldn't matter as long as she wasn't trying to get back to Winslow.

Being with Harold was an entirely different experience. Instead of the usual flamboyant and expensive places that Swan favored, Harold took them to a small diner about two blocks away. Melody thoroughly enjoyed sitting in the passenger seat and was toying with the radio. When they both found a station with a Beatles song, they started singing at the top of their lungs. Harold drummed on the steering wheel with his palms, though being careful not to lose control of his car. The floorboard was littered with fast-food wrappers and discarded clothes, but there was something so safe about this area that she didn't mind the clutter.

"When I first started out here, this was all I could afford," Harold explained, "but I've had thousands of burgers since then and not one of them was as good as here. Their coffee's a little strong, though—cleans out your insides if you know what I mean. Best to water it down a little."

Melody giggled.

"That's all right…Swan says my coffee can keep him up for days on end. I think I can handle it."

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Just out of curiosity…I really don't mean to pry…well, yes I do…oh, Hell! Is there anything going on with you and him?"

It was times like these that the truth felt like it weighed more than the car.

"Um…how so?" she asked nervously.

"I mean…I know he's with Phoenix, but you two seem kind of close…" Harold was turning the shade of a cherry tomato.

"Oh! No, of course not. He's my friend, but it wouldn't work out…you have no idea how different we can be," she said, relieved.

"For sure you're not an item?" he asked.

"For sure," she answered.

They pulled into the parking spot.

"Stay there," he told her, getting out. She looked at him questioningly as he ran around to the other side of the car. He opened the door.

"Always wanted to do that," he laughed.

"Thanks."

They went inside. Since everyone who went to the Paradise had gotten used to seeing Harold in bizarre getups, no one seemed to know who he was. It was nice to scrape the veneer of superstar off and just be plain old Harold. A smiling blonde middle-aged waitress seated them at the corner booth and brought them their menus.

"How long will you be out of town?" Harold asked when they received their coffee.

"I'm really not sure," Melody admitted, "it's been a long time since I've seen Father and I've been very homesick. I might be gone a very long time."

He stirred sugar into his cup.

"Well…if you wanna give me the number, maybe I could call you while you're there in case you start missing New York."

Melody smiled, tears sparkling in her eyes.

"It's pretty long-distance, I'm afraid."

"Letters, then?"

She cleared her throat to avoid crying. Why, of all times, was this happening now?

"Okay…letters. I'm not sure the exact address, I'll have to give it to you tonight."

"All right. Where could you possibly live that is this hard to find?"

"Long story."

Their cheeseburgers came in red plastic baskets along with a hearty helping of fries. They both got cherry pie with ice cream for dessert.

"Ugh…I can barely walk," Melody laughed, "I'm so full…"

"That's Benny's for you," Harold said, "if you walk away hungry, it's your own fault."

He let her in the car. Feeling full and slightly sleepy after such a heavy lunch, she was content to half-lay-down in the seat with her head against Harold's shoulder. Boldly, he put one arm around her shoulder.

_Thank you, Father…if I never get a moment like this again, I'll at least have this one to remember._

It was a bright day, but there were clouds building up on the horizon. She stared at their purple-gray underbellies and wondered when the storm was going to hit. When they arrived back at the Paradise, she found herself wondering where the last hour had gone. A sharp pain in her gut told her that something else had stopped working and she had to will herself to smile despite wanting to cry. No doubt about it, this was the night she'd return home. Burdened with guilt, she wondered if she was wrong for being a little sad. If all days had been like the past hour, would she have been tempted the same way that Swan had?

"Have a nice time with Harold?"

Melody nearly jumped out of her skin. She was in the process of getting her costume on behind the changing screen in the dressing room. She could have sworn that the door was locked.

"Oh!" she yelped in surprise. She poked her head around the screen.

"He's really nice…he had a lot of stories to tell," she said, "he's also really good at making people laugh."

Swan stood with his arms folded. His expression was one of amusement.

"Just keep in mind he's off limits," he said, the smile freezing slightly.

Melody stepped out from behind the screen and immediately wished she hadn't. The costume was too revealing. She clenched her arms around herself, wishing she had about twice the material that was there.

"So beautiful…" he whispered, giving her the once-over expression, "a dove on a stage full of crows."

Unlike the other crow-girl costumes, hers was white and had fake jewels sewn into it so that she shimmered any which way she turned. She also had white wings on her back, though they were fake. The only things that were covered were her pelvic region and her breasts—everything else was either encased in sheer gauzy material or left bare. She flushed red all over.

"I'm not so sure about this," she objected, "I feel naked right now. I can't go out there like this."

"Yes, you can. All the other girls are wearing the same thing."

"But…"

He was now behind her, her back pressed into his front. One hand trailed down her side, the touch as soft as a feather or a baby's breath, but burning with desire.

"Yes, I made yours different. I want you to be the one everyone remembers."

Melody gulped audibly.

"Mr. Swan, please…it's my last night on earth…"

She immediately regretted saying that, for his face rubbed against her shoulder.

"Not if I can help it."

"It's not your choice to make."

"But I have the power. Stick with me and you need never fear death. This could be yours forever."

Images of Harold flashed through her mind. She shook her head as her eyes began to fill with tears.

"I can't remember Heaven," she choked out, "but I can't hold on anymore either. I can only trust. And I can't let my fear of losing this life get in the way of that. I'm sorry, Mr. Swan."

He turned her so that their gazes were locked. She saw, deep down, in his blue-green eyes, that the real Swan was still struggling in there, still trying to find purchase on what really mattered.

"I tried to make it easy for you, Melody. I did. I didn't want you to get hurt. But now, because of your selfishness, I have to do it the hard way. Don't say I didn't warn you or give you a chance."

With that, he was gone.


	17. Chapter 17

Melody accepted the criticism from Philbin about being late with grace. The rhythm of her heart was slowing down and beating irregularly now, and her very brain seemed to not be working as good. She had trouble piecing her thoughts together. The environment of the club wasn't helping: the colors seemed too vibrant, the music and the crowds too loud, the lights too bright, and the air too warm. The whirling, spinning dance of the bird girls was taking its toll as well. Through her slowly clouding vision, she could see Winslow making his way along the scaffolding at the back of the theater. Phoenix emerged in her dark glittering dress, giddily happy with dilated eyes. Melody could still smell everything strongly and knew from the chemical scent that she'd been heavily drugged. Ignoring Philbin's disapproving gaze, she clutched Phoenix by the shoulders.

"Phoenix, you have to get out of here, now! Swan's going to have you killed!"

"Killed? Oh, no, you must be mistaken! He's going to marry me…"

"Yeah, about that, don't you think it's kind of sudden?"

"Of course…but it's meant to be! Nothing but good things have happened!"

"It's because of _Winslow_, Phoenix! You owe _him_ and _God,_ not Mr. Swan! He's possessed, Phoenix!"

Phoenix clutched her while she shook with laughter.

"We can't all be perfect like you, Melody!"

Melody resisted the urge to scream in frustration. She hoped Winslow was having better luck.

"What's wrong, Melody?" Harold asked as he danced past her.

"We're about to be in serious trouble," she whispered in his ear, "there's a demon inside Mr. Swan and it's trying to kill people."

Harold frowned. As much as he wanted to doubt her, something deep down told him to trust her. He'd seen her do amazing things in the short time she'd been here. She wasn't fake, not like all the other women.

"You mean like…" he pantomimed something scary.

"That's the one," Melody said reluctantly. Their time to talk was up. They'd been drifting further apart slowly and now had to be on opposite sides of the stage. He was still frowning and she wasn't sure that he believed her. Swan appeared in the middle of the flower. It was then that Melody realized what he had done. He was wearing white with a silver mask—and so was she. Two sides of the same coin…she felt sick to her stomach. Of course, Swan wasn't himself right now. His eyes were overly bright from the evil influence inside and the air seemed to darken visibly. He caught her gaze with a smirk. It said _it's over…I win…_

Melody dropped her mask of everything being okay and sent him a pleading gaze. His hands were shaking, but Lillith kept everything else controlled tightly.

_Fight it, Mr. Swan, please…_

Melody remembered that same cold expression and it finally dawned on her that this was Lillith. Lillith was using him as a power source—if she continued to dwell inside him, he would burn out as quickly as Melody herself. She had to get Lillith out. Winslow disappeared from sight and Melody wondered what had happened. Philbin started the ceremony.

Melody clutched her abdomen. One of her kidneys had failed earlier and the other one had just followed suit. Her liver was also fading and she felt the waste building in her blood. Her heart would be next…

"….until death do you part?" Philbin was saying. There was a loud bang. Melody threw herself on top of him and knocked him over. He swore nastily at her until he saw the smoking hole in the set where his head had been just a fraction of a second earlier. In the next instant, a black and silver blur streaked past on a rope and Swan's face was exposed to the crowd. It had burned away and Phoenix shrieked, horrified.

"Your face! Oh, God, what's happened to your face?!" she asked.

Swan's hand came up and felt his decaying flesh. Horror-struck, he whipped around, turning his back to the crowd.

"WINSLOW!" he yelled, agonized. His voice, once velvet-smooth, was now like gravel rattled in an aluminum pan. Winslow was staring between him and the mask, looking almost perplexed. Swan lunged for Phoenix and grabbed her by the throat.

"Your voice, remember? You promised me your voice!"

Melody jumped at him, knocking his grip loose. Winslow snatched a crow-girl's hat off and held it like a dagger.

"Winslow, no! He's possessed! Besides, you'll die, too!" she pleaded.

Winslow's eyes narrowed.

"I don't care," he said firmly, "this has to end!"

Melody stayed his hand.

"Wait," she pleaded, "let me get Lillith out. She's the one we want to stab. Mr. Swan is innocent—at least of this. Let Father handle it."

Winslow shook with fury, but he waited.

"Get your dagger," she said. Lillith/Swan realized what was about to happen and began to struggle anew.

"Mr. Swan, if you're still in there, fight her! Push her back! Call to God and ask for help! I can't do it by myself!" she called in his ear.

His eyes closed and he went limp. For a minute, everyone thought he'd either died or passed out. Philbin had gone white as a sheet and Phoenix was leaning against him for support. The crow girls continued to dance. Harold had joined Melody and was helping to pin Swan's body to the floor. Suddenly, Swan's body went rigid and began to shake. Melody placed her hands against his chest.

"Come on, you can do it! Push her out!"

Inside, bound and gagged by Lillith, Swan was fighting. He was praying. He was singing. He was doing everything he'd refrained from doing since his mother died. He thought of her and how faithful she'd been up to the end. And Lillith screamed inside his head, deafening him. But he would not be silent anymore.

Lillith erupted from his chest, snarling and swearing. She was little more than a black vapor with some crude features, but she solidified and began to form. Swan slumped back down to the stage, breathing raggedly. Tears flowed from his squeezed-shut eyes as he silently thanked God. Winslow stared, wide-eyed.

"It's over, Lillith," Melody told her, "you can't torment him anymore. Nor Phoenix, nor Winslow, or any of the others. I'm the one you want, so do your worst."

Philbin, sensing that things were going to get ugly, pulled the fire alarm. Harold helped Swan to his feet and was trying to persuade him to leave, but he was resisting.

"I can't leave her, Harold, it's my fault she's in this mess!"

Winslow could now say he'd officially heard everything. He sprinted to Phoenix's side and asked her if she was all right.

"I am now," she confessed.

For a moment, the rest of the world receded as their gazes locked.

"Thank you, Winslow…for everything. I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

He smiled, his expression bitter-sweet.

"It's all right. I'm just glad you're okay."

He froze when she lifted the faceplate of his helmet.

"I'll always be all right with you around to protect me."

Her lips were on his then. For one glorious, beautiful moment, he allowed himself to be lost in that kiss and melt. The sound of a scream made them jerk apart, however. Lillith was now corporeal and had drawn a sword made of dark flames. Melody was clutching a wound in her arm. Anyone who had an ounce of sense had fled already, but a few, thinking it was part of the show, had stayed to watch.

"Why don't you ask your precious Father to save you, little one? Oh, right! You completely disobeyed him! You lusted for a human! You tried to kill a human! Not once did you try to come after me, did you? It was all about being with Winslow and Phoenix and precious Swan-baby, am I right?"

She turned to Harold.

"She'd never be faithful to you, you know. She's got a deep, dark little secret and he's standing right there."

Harold glanced first at Swan, then at Melody. Thoroughly horrified, Swan shook his head.

"Nothing happened and you know it, you lying $%&^ !" he snapped.

"Is that so? Why don't we ask our little Melody here who she grieved for all those nights, when she cried herself to sleep?" Lillith turned to Melody. Humiliated, the former angel bowed her head.

"You see? She can't even answer. She's guilty. She's guilty of lots of things…"

"Who isn't?" Melody asked, "Who hasn't done something they regret? All you can do is lie to people and convince them they're no good. You have no real power. If you did, you wouldn't need to manipulate us."

"Us? _Us?_ You've gone native, haven't you?!" Lillith laughed, "Oh, this is too good! An angel thinks she's human! Well, just for laughs, just for fun, why don't I show your little human friends what I'm made of. If I have no real power, you have nothing to fear even when your body fails you like it's doing now."

Lillith's form began to distort and grow until she was enormous. Her face contorted into a reptilian shape with dark scales. Her eyes glowed green. Winslow grabbed Phoenix and hauled her off the stage, determined not to let her get hurt. Swan was dragged by Harold and Philbin. Only Melody stayed there, willing herself to stop shaking. She did wish she had something on besides this skimpy bird costume.

"Melody, no!" Swan yelled, but it was too late. Lillith snickered and lunged at her. Melody dodged, but barely. Lillith got a mouthful of stage props. She spat the mangled things out and lunged again. Winslow drew his dagger, finally remembering that it was still in his belt.

"Winslow, no!" Phoenix begged, horrified. The warmth in his heart was tempered by fear for Melody.

"I have to help her," he said calmly, "she saved my life."

He took his helmet off and set it aside. He also took the cape off so that it wouldn't hang up on anything. A little guiltily, he hoped that Phoenix would remember his bravery and not his mangled face. Just as it looked as though Melody was trapped, Winslow stabbed Lillith in the hind leg. She roared in pain and turned to face him.

"YOU! I should have destroyed you when I had the chance!"

He sprinted away from her, hoping he could at least distract her for a little bit. Melody managed to get around the remains of the big pink flower platform. She held onto it, feeling her heart stutter.

"Help me, Father…" she gasped, "please….give me strength enough to take her out…"

Then, something truly remarkable happened. Her skimpy costume melted away and something clear oozed out of her pores all over her body except for her face. It hardened and turned white at first glance, but it was truly iridescent—it flashed different colors depending on which way she turned. Highly ornate armor had formed around her, protecting her. The pink in her skin faded away, becoming bright white. She was no longer sick-looking, she was glowing. The bluish cast in her black hair grew stronger so that her hair appeared to be made of the night sky. In her hand appeared a shining sword with white flames licking up the blade.

"The Sword of Guardians…" she whispered. Her voice was ethereal and misty, sounding as though it were part of the wind. Her attention snapped back to Lillith when she was bearing down on Winslow at an alarming place. Then, the most wondrous thing happened. Swan stepped in front of Winslow when he tripped and fell.

"Out of my way, you traitorous worm," Lillith demanded.

"Over my dead body," Swan said firmly.

"That can be arranged."

She opened her mouth and vomited fire. Swan grabbed Winslow's arm and yanked him out of the way. He helped him up and they ran for it.

"Thanks for that!" Winslow panted.

"Welcome!"

Just as they thought they were cornered, something swiped at Lillith's head. Melody landed on the back of the demon's neck.

"Pick on somebody your own size! Or even a sixth your size, like me!" she sang.

Lillith growled and tried to catch her, but wasn't able to reach her. She had to slam against a wall to dislodge her angelic attacker. Encouraging cheers rose up from the group in the back of the room. Melody went flying, but she was well-protected by her armor.

"Is that the best you got?" Melody asked.

Lillith belched the fire at her. Melody's hair got a little singed, but she seemed unharmed other than that.

"Come on, you big pile of scales! Let's take it outside!"

Melody seemed to step right through the very wall. Lillith charged through it leaving a big pile of bricks. As the group chased them, Swan muttered something about demon attacks not being covered by the insurance. Harold whacked him in the head.

"Melody's in trouble and that's all you can think about?! What's the matter with you!"

"I was only joking," Swan grumbled resentfully.

"He was not," Winslow hissed. Phoenix giggled.

"Where are they?" Harold asked, "surely it's not possible to lose a two-ton dragon from Hell."

"You're right, handsome."

Harold let out a high-pitched shriek when he realized Lillith was right behind him. Too late, they all realized, he had lost his balance and plummeted towards the earth. For a second, he closed his eyes and hoped it was quick. But then he stopped midair.

"Huh?"

The sound of beating wings made him smile. He turned to see Melody's glowing face just inches from his.

"Good catch!" he said admiringly.

"Thanks."

She put him back on top of the building with the others. That was when they all got a good look at her wings: they were black with blue sparks of electricity running down the feathers. They knew she wasn't well—she was struggling to stay in the air and her glow was fading, but she was smiling. She blew them all a kiss and beat her wings hard. Lillith might catch her, but then again she might not—it was all in timing. She disappeared above the clouds where the air was below freezing. The dark storm clouds were like a carpet under her feet. This was the closest she'd been…and the furthest she'd been…from home ever.

"Here it goes, Father," she said, "guide my sword…for Your Glory and for them…"

She folded her wings and rocketed towards the earth, the sword held out in front of her by both hands. She was moving so fast that the very air in front of her burst into flames. She streaked like an electrical blue comet towards the earth, the point of the sword headed straight for Lillith. Winslow and the others caught a glance of her just as she burst free of the clouds. Lillith raised her head only to just catch a glimpse of her doom. The sword pierced her skin and found her dead heart. And then, the whole world seemed to explode.


	18. Chapter 18

They were all knocked off their feet. Winslow was thrown several feet back, his ears ringing from the blast. Phoenix landed on his chest roughly, leaving a bruise where her elbow and her head hit. Harold cracked his head on the concrete and lay there for several minutes, dazed. Swan raised up and gingerly nursed his bloodied lip where one of his teeth had cut it. They looked up to see an enormous mushroom cloud emerge from where Lillith had been just seconds before.

"Did she…?" Harold asked.

Winslow didn't wait around to find out. Braving the immense heat, he began to climb down the fire escape. One by one, they followed him until they were all safe on the ground. Ash and snow were one now and it was impossible to tell which was which in the dark. At least half the city's power had gone out from the immense discharge of energy. Police sirens wailed in the distance. Swan glanced over his shoulder at his ruined Paradise, but that didn't affect him nearly as much as the sight in front of him did.

A weak cough sounded from the center of the fallout. Melody's wings fluttered, scattering some of the ash. They all sprinted to her side.

"She's gone," Melody choked out, "you'll never have to worry about her again, Mr. Swan."

Her breath was shallow and ragged.

"I am so sorry…" was all he could get out.

"Shhh…it's all right now. I forgave you a long time ago. You've seen The Light…now promise me you'll always carry that inside you…"

"I promise…"

Winslow gently lifted her upper body out of the ashes. She couldn't sit up; she didn't have the strength.

"My spine's broken," she told him," don't worry, I can't feel it."

His eyes shone with tears.

"My time's almost up," she rasped, "but I have one last gift to give each of you. For you, Mr. Swan, I give my voice since you sacrificed your life for mine and Winslow's. "

She touched his throat. He could feel his flesh repairing itself both inside there and his face. When he touched it again, his skin was smooth.

"For you, Winslow, I give my beauty. Not just appearance, but the ability to appreciate it in all things around you. Feel the sun on your skin again and remember me."

She touched his face and he felt his mangled flesh knitting back together. Something twitched inside his throat and it suddenly became much easier to breathe.

"For you, Phoenix, I give my gift of insight. You will now see things more as I do…both the future and the present. Enjoy them both, as my Father will never steer you wrong." She placed her hand on Phoenix's forehead.

Finally, she looked into Harold's eyes.

"And for you, Harold, I give the gift of love. Under all that hair gel and penchant for showing off, I've looked into your heart and seen your kindness. My Father is pleased with you and you will have your heart's desire in time. Use it well."

She touched his heart.

"Most importantly," she wheezed, "remember that all of you, for better or for worse, were brought together by my Father. He doesn't do these things randomly. Now that you know each other and you've had time to work together and be close, you have to become a family and watch over each other as I've watched over you. Forgive each other and don't let the past be your broken glass. Live each day trusting my Father and sharing each other's burdens in my stead. And remember that I am with you."

Her vision was growing dim. She could barely see their faces in the dim light now.

"I love you all," she sighed contentedly, letting her eyes close. She sang them one last lullaby before she began to slide off into oblivion. After the last note, Winslow felt her presence leave her body though she still barely had a breath. He watched the EMT's load her into the ambulance through a haze of tears. Swan's face was buried in his hands. Harold let out an agonized scream. Phoenix hid her face in Winslow's chest. They went to the hospital with her though they knew it was only a matter of time. Together, they waited by Melody's side until the heart monitor flat-lined.

One by one, they exited the room. Philbin had been knocked unconscious by a falling set prop, so he was just now hearing what happened. When he saw the devastated looks on their faces, all he could ask was "Gone?"

Swan nodded.

"She's gone. She went home."

Philbin clutched the tiny stained glass window she'd made earlier that day.

"I'm going to miss her," he lamented.

"We all will," Phoenix sighed.

…..

Melody woke in a place she didn't recognize. She tested her body gingerly, finding no wounds, no failed organs, no nothing. She was lighter than air, she was pure energy. She felt so much better that it seemed impossible.

"I'm back!" she squealed, looking over her shoulder. Her white wings, purer than freshly fallen snow, greeted her.

"Yes, you're home," a familiar voice said, "and I must say you did very well."

Melody looked up.

"FATHER!" she flung herself into his arms. Those eyes that defied all human description gazed warmly into hers.

"I don't think they could have asked for a better guardian," he told her.

"Really? I made a lot of mistakes," she lamented, "a lot of really dumb ones."

"Yes…but you learned, didn't you?"

"Yeah. It wasn't easy. It was really hard at times," Melody confessed, "I had feelings I didn't have names for."

"Some things don't need names," he told her, "I designed some of them for only the heart to know."

Melody walked to the edge of the cloud and peered over it.

"Gosh, it's good to be back," she sighed, "but does it sound nuts that I really miss them?"

"Of course not. You love them."


	19. Chapter 19

In the days that followed Melody's death, no one took it harder than Swan. The others, of course, grieved with him, but they could sense that a lot had changed. He invited Winslow to stay with him since the Paradise had been heavily damaged by the fire and by the fighting. Though Winslow felt kind of odd about it, he reluctantly agreed. He could sense that the evil had left Swan for good and that he wanted to make it up to him somehow. At first, he and Swan went their separate ways, only meeting for awkwardly quiet mealtimes. Gradually, however, they began to open up to each other. They weren't quite friends, but they both knew the potential was there.

"I got my first guitar when Mother sent me to the store for food," Swan told Winslow one morning, "but I just had to go to the little store on the corner and look. That was my ritual when I went to town—looking in all the windows. This guitar that had been on sale forever had gotten marked down again and I couldn't pass it up. Oh, don't get me wrong—I didn't spend all the money on the guitar. But when she saw me coming back up the hill with it on my back and only one bag of groceries to last us an entire month, I thought she was going to kill me."

Winslow chuckled. He imagined a preteen Swan ducking a variety of household objects being thrown.

"My first piano was a gift. It had been in our family for several generations. When I came into the living room of our house and found it with a big ribbon on top, I thought I was going to explode from being so happy. I couldn't play yet, though, and my father threatened to cut my fingers off if I didn't stop making so much racket."

Now that Melody, their common bond, had disappeared, they were rebuilding their relationship over their mutual love of music. It was funny, Winslow thought, that under the veneer of richness and fame, that Swan really wasn't all that different.

"It sounds crazy," Swan sighed, putting his coffee cup in the sink, "but I still feel her presence. Little moments, you know? Like I'll go to my studio room and be playing one of the instruments and I'll feel as though she's in the chair across from me, watching me."

"It's not crazy," Winslow assured him, "I feel her, too, sometimes. She said she'd come back to check in on us."

He was still getting used to being able to talk again without Swan's voice box. It was so odd, after all this time, to hear his own voice and not the constant choking, wheezing, gurgling sound. His face still had scars, but they were far less conspicuous. Instead of the thick, heavy scarring he'd had that night, there were only a few soft, shiny pink lines. Both his eyes looked normal and his hair was growing back out from the short prison cut. Aside from the silver teeth, he could pass for normal. Swan, who was feeling very contrite about it all, had offered to pay for dental work once the holidays were over.

The phone rang. Swan picked it up while Winslow rinsed out his breakfast dishes. He didn't want the housekeeper having more work just because he was staying here.

"It's for you," Swan told him, leaving the receiver resting on the counter.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Phoenix. They have the ice rink in the park repaired. I was wondering if you felt up to ice-skating."

"I'm not very good at it, but if you don't mind helping me up, I'd be glad to come."

Winslow turned to Swan.

"Phoenix wants to know if we'll go ice-skating with her."

With a knowing glint in his eye, Swan said, "Pass. I have to find out how much it costs to rebuild the Paradise."

Winslow felt himself turning pink.

"All right…"

He removed his hand from the mouthpiece.

"Swan says he's busy, but I can still go if you want."

"Sounds great. You know, I've been wanting to try that little coffee shop on the corner and I've never had an excuse to go in. I hear their hot chocolate is divine."

Winslow's pinkness deepened to scarlet.

"Oh…all right," he was grinning ear to ear. Swan couldn't hear exact words, but he knew a date invitation when he heard the tone. When Winslow hung the phone up, Swan gave him a congratulatory grin.

"Have a good time," he said knowingly, exiting the kitchen.

"This isn't going to be weird, is it?" Winslow asked uncomfortably, having been on Swan's bad side before.

"No, of course not. For the longest time, all she ever talked about was you. Made me jealous, actually—I knew I couldn't compete with you. Besides, I was under Lillith's influence when I asked her to marry me anyway. Melody was the one who told me that you two were meant to be together."

Winslow felt as if a powerful glow had been lit inside his chest.

"Really?"

"Really. She begged me to break the engagement the night she tried to heal me. I wish I had…well, you'll be together now and that's all that matters."

He disappeared up the stairs, leaving Winslow feeling euphoric and like the luckiest man in the world.

Phoenix's small white car almost blended in with the snow. Winslow thought his heart was going to pound right out of his chest. He couldn't stop smiling and neither could Phoenix. She kissed him, just a peck on the lips, but he thought he would melt into a puddle. This was the first time they'd truly been alone—no Swan, no Lillith, no risk of being discovered by people who worked at the Paradise. It was truly liberating. As promised, when the ray of sunshine hit Winslow's face, he remembered Melody.

_I don't know if you can hear me, but thank you! Thank you so much,_ he thought warmly. It was nice to be among other people who weren't staring and frightened. As promised, he fell down a lot, but there was a lot of laughter. Soon, after he'd gotten his balance a bit better, they held hands and skated side-by-side. After a while, they were both getting tired and hungry, so they decided it was time to find some lunch. The café that Phoenix had suggested was called "Cup of Heaven" and had a coffee cup with a wing on its handle and a curlicue of steam rising up that looked like a halo. When they entered, they saw that the place was bigger than it looked on the outside. In the back was a stage. There was an art gallery as well, advertising for new artists. The smells were wonderful.

"I must have walked past here a thousand times," Winslow admitted, "and I wonder how I never noticed it."

They examined the menu together, admitting that there were a ridiculous amount of choices. There were a lot of blended drinks and flavored coffees—they eventually chose some off the seasonal list. Phoenix wanted a peppermint mocha and Winslow wanted a raspberry one. The smiling waitress took their drink orders.

"Here we go again," Phoenix laughed when they were presented with another menu.

The coffees arrived. Winslow took a sip of his.

"This thing tastes like a liquefied candy bar!" he exclaimed.

Phoenix tried hers.

"Well, we'll have to go somewhere else just to burn off all the sugar," she agreed.

"If you come back during the evening, there's an open mic night," the waitress informed them, "all you have to do is sign up with the owner, Dawn Lehr. She's right over there. And the dance floor is opened up then, too."

Dawn Lehr was a blonde-haired woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties. She wore a black newsboy cap and was casually dressed in jeans and a black tank-top. Despite being the owner, she wore and apron and was carrying dishes back into the kitchen.

"Are you Dawn Lehr?" Winslow asked when they were done eating.

"That I am," she answered, "how may I help you?"

"I was wondering…one of your coworkers was telling me about open mic night. How would I sign up for that?"

Dawn set the dishes down on an empty table and wiped her hands on her apron.

"There's a form in the art gallery over there," she pointed, "just a short little thing. Contact information and so forth. It helps us be ready for your act. If people like your stuff, then we'll consider making you a guest performer, which means you come in once a week on a set day. Open-mic is once every two weeks. My husband's the one who keeps up with who goes when."

"Thank you."

She nodded and resumed hauling the dishes.

"There's something you don't see every day," Phoenix admitted.

"Yeah…she doesn't act like the boss at all," Winslow marveled, "I wonder what the world would be like if everybody pitched in like that."

They finished their super-sweet coffees, agreeing not to order dessert because the coffee itself could pass for dessert. On the way out, Winslow took a business card from the basket beside the cash register and stuffed it in his coat pocket. As they drove, they passed the Paradise.

"Wow…this place really took a beating," Phoenix admitted, "I've been taking the long way back because I was kind of afraid to look."

The fire had taken out a good chunk of the top floor. Lillith had done far more damage than the flames, causing a big crater to collapse at least a quarter of the big building.

"Do you see that?"

"Where?"

"There…right there in the ashes."

She pulled over. A dark red stain was soaking the ashes. Puzzled, they got out of the car to inspect it.

"This looks like blood," Phoenix whispered, "but whose…"

"It can't be Melody's," Winslow objected, "that happened over a week ago."

Even as they spoke, the very ashes themselves seemed to be bleeding.

"What are the two of you doing here? Visiting the ruins of my club hardly seems like a good spot for a first date," Swan said, half-joking. He stopped when he realized what they were staring at.

"What the Hell is that?" he asked, somewhat alarmed.

The ashes then began to move. The blood grew more copious, pooling on top of the ashes. Out of the center, much to their horror, rose a beating human heart. As tempted as they all were to run away screaming, they couldn't. They couldn't look away. Others began to collect there as if drawn by some invisible force. Philbin. Harold. The other Juicy Fruits. All of them had been drawn together by an unseen force this cold wintry day.

Some of the blood hardened and became bone. Before long, they were looking at a complete skeleton, a small frame with a wide pelvis. It was almost certainly female. The blood vessels formed and the blood sucked into them. Glistening reddish-pink muscles layered over the bones, followed by fat and skin. The skin was a pale, soft rosy color. The ashes that covered the body thickened and transformed from gray to white, forming a gauzy, feather-light dress that concealed its wearer in tasteful modesty. It wasn't until the face formed that they realized what was happening.

"Oh my God…" Harold gasped, "it's Melody!"

The bluish-black hair sprouted out of the scalp and his suspicions were confirmed. Before long, a perfect image of the woman they'd lost was laying on top of the ashes. None of them quite knew what to do at first. Winslow knelt beside her.

"Melody," he whispered, "are you in there?"

It sounded like a silly question, but her eyelids fluttered in response. When they were graced with the familiar warm greenish-brown, they all cheered.

"What happened? Did somebody else trick you?" Swan's voice was loaded with anger and protectiveness.

"No," she admitted, "Father sent me back."

"Why?"  
"Because He said this was where I was supposed to be for now," she said, brushing ashes off of her dress, "He wanted me to live out a human life with all of you."

She stood and shook the rest of the ashes off.

"And it looks like we've got a lot of work to do here," she commented, pointing at the ruined Paradise.

Before she could say anything else, Harold was kissing her furiously. Her ears turned bright red, followed by her cheeks.

"I missed you, too?" she asked awkwardly, causing everyone to crack up.

"What about your health?" Winslow asked.

"Oh, He fixed that. I won't burn this one out nearly as fast as the last one. I have a human soul now, too. All the good and all the bad. I can't remember Heaven anymore, or Father's face, but it's all right. I just know I've been there and it was wonderful…and now I get to be here. This will be my home for a while."

"It may be selfish of me, but I sure am glad to see you again!" Winslow swept her up in a tight hug.

"I told you I'd be back," she whispered in his ear, "and I'm glad you finally got what you deserved."

"Because of you," he reminded her, blue eyes glowing with warmth and appreciation.

"No. Because of Him."

She pointed to the sky. Snow clouds were gathering. They all looked up and there was a shape that looked oddly human. The sun was behind it, causing it to be outlined in a glow. There was no mistaking the figure there. It dissolved in a matter of seconds, but they all saw it and knew what it was.

"Was that…?" Phoenix ventured.

"Nah, couldn't have been," Harold objected.

"Think what you want, Harold," Swan said gently, "the rest of us have seen too much to doubt."

Harold, in fact, wasn't doubting. He was starting to see the world through an entirely different lens. They all were. The proof was standing right in front of them.

"Does anybody happen to know what day it is?" Melody asked quietly.

They all looked at her expectantly.

"It's Christmas Eve," she told them, "the day before my Brother was born. Father chose this day for me to be born again. And you all have the choice of whether or not you take that gift for yourselves. You may not be given new bodies today, but will you accept new hearts instead?"


End file.
